


calling me home

by feignedsobriquet, weethreequarter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Assassination Attempt(s), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Alternate 2012 Timeline, BAMF Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon-Typical Violence, Co-Parenting, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Family Feels, Fanart, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, First Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, On the Run, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Post-Iron Man 3, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Siblings, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Steve is ready to fight, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26584015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feignedsobriquet/pseuds/feignedsobriquet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter
Summary: When Alexander Pierce turns up asking questions about Harley, it sets off alarm bells in Tony's head. But he never could've predicted it would result in him going on the run with the Winter Soldier in a desperate attempt to protect his children from Hydra. Throw in the Soldier's true identity, revelations about Tony's parents, and awkward parent-child reunions and Tony's left wondering what he's gotten into. And that's without the fact he maybe-kind-of actually likes his new co-parent.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 124
Kudos: 370
Collections: WIP Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS DONE.
> 
> FINALLY.
> 
> A year later, and I am finally finished with this fic. Thank you so much to everyone who has helped with or cheered on this fic because who knows if it ever would've been finished without you. The biggest shoutout must go to [Cinna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Anemone/pseuds/Cinnamon_Anemone) for betaing this monster and being amazingly encouraging when I decided to take a break and rework it. Thanks also to Ting, Lys, pensivegrace, Faust, and everyone else I've forgotten who cheered me on or helped me fight through writer's block. And thank you to Sobri for the constant excitement and cracky versions of this fic which always made me laugh, and of course the _amazing_ art for this fic!
> 
> I swear this was supposed to only be a 10k oneshot.

Steve stepped into the interrogation room and found himself faced with a very different Tony Stark from the one he joked with over a pile of sandwiches the size of his shield six months ago. 

As soon as the door opened, Tony’s eyes snapped up, cold and calculating behind the glasses - not sunglasses, for seeing, rather than for show - flickering over Steve, looking for threats and targeting weaknesses. Tony’s eyes were never easy to read, but now they were impenetrable. 

His hair was longer, falling onto his forehead, more like the pictures Steve had seen of him in the days before and after his kidnapping in Afghanistan. He’d maintained his signature beard, more or less, although the rest of his chin was covered with two days’ stubble.

His clothes were old and worn, second- if not third-hand, but clean. And despite the way he lounged in his chair, legs stretching out under the table and arms folded loosely across his chest, the picture of casual relaxation, Steve could read the tension in every sinew. Tony reminded him of a tiger, lulling its prey into a false sense of security, ready to pounce. He’d always known Tony was more dangerous than he looked, but now, now Tony was deadly. 

What had he seen in the last six months to make him like this?

“Hi Cap,” Tony greeted, maintaining that image of relaxation.

“Tony,” he nodded. 

Closing the door behind him, Steve crossed the small interrogation room, the feet of the chair screeching against the linoleum as he pulled it out and sat down.

“So, how’s things?” Tony asked, and his eyes drifted up to the security camera in the corner, red light blinking as it recorded everything in the room.

“Oh, you know. Not bad,” Steve shrugged, watching the red light disappear as the camera was turned off. “Considering there’s Nazis again.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah. Funny how that happened. Right?”

“That’s one word for it,” Steve sighed.

Tony glanced towards the two-way mirror, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. Steve turned, staring at the mirror. He couldn’t see through it, but he could hear the faint sounds of someone in there. 

“I was promised complete privacy,” he called.

Tony chuckled humorlessly, while whoever was in there left, flicking on the light before they closed the door, illuminating the observation room so they could see it was empty. Steve stood, crossing to the window to check, just in case. Then he returned to his seat.

“Clear,” he promised.

“Where are my children?” Tony asked.

“They’re not-”

And just like that, it was as though a switch was flicked. Tony lunged forward, his hands flat on the table as he snarled, “If you say they’re not my children, I’ll beat the shit out of you myself, Rogers. I’ve kept them alive for the last six months. Now. Where are my children?”

Outwardly, Steve kept his face impassive. Inwardly, his heart pounded. The anger and the hatred burning in Tony’s eyes was terrifying. Steve swallowed, and one corner of Tony’s mouth twitched; he knew he’d gotten to Steve. 

“They’re in the soft room,” Steve replied. “They’re safe. Natasha’s with them.”

“Interrogating them?”

“No. Making sure no one else can,” Steve promised.

Tony studied his face, searching for some sign, some clue, some tic that said he was lying, before relaxing. As much as he could relax these days, it seemed. He sat back, his face falling back into an unreadable mask.

“And where is he?” he asked, a slight tremble to his voice, and shit, he must be scared if this new Tony couldn’t keep a lid on it. He pursed his lips, avoiding Steve’s gaze.

“Downstairs,” Steve swallowed. “Locked up. They’re pumping him full of sedatives until they can figure out what to do with him.”

“He’s not dangerous,” Tony whispered.

“I know. At least, I think I do. But they won’t let me see him.”

A ghost of a smile flittered over Tony’s face.

“Probably worried you’d try and break him out.”

“Well,” Steve smirked. “Not an unreasonable assumption.”

Tony snorted.

“What happened?” Steve asked. “Talk to me. Tony, please. Before this goes too far.”

“Too late for that,” Tony muttered.

Steve folded his arms on the table, leaning forward, trying to show Tony that he wanted to help, he wasn’t afraid of him or what they might’ve done.

“Tell me. Please?”

Tony sighed, staring into the empty observation room. He pursed his lips, dropped his gaze then sighed again.

“You already know the start,” he shrugged.

“Pierce,” Steve confirmed.

Tony nodded. “I kept digging. I found out why he wanted to know about Harley.”

“Why?”

Tony stared straight into Steve’s eyes; straight into his _soul_ , it felt like. 

“Because he’s the son of the Winter Soldier.”

* * *

_Six months earlier_

“Sir, Alexander Pierce is here to see you.”

Tony’s hand hovered in the air, pausing above the boot he was building as he frowned at the ceiling.

“What?” 

“Alexander Pierce is here to see you,” JARVIS repeated. “He’s-”

“I know who he is, J,” Tony interrupted. “He’s the one who turned up after the Battle of New York and tried to take over before everything went to shit and Loki escaped with the tesseract.”

“And you had a heart attack,” JARVIS pointed out, the reprimand clear in his voice. 

“Yeah, that too. What’s he doing here?”

“He wants to talk to you.”

“Why?” Tony wondered, tossing the screwdriver aside and pushing off from the table, letting his chair roll across the workshop to the open holoscreen. “Gimme the lobby footage.”

JARVIS obliged, the live feed from the lobby popping onto the screen, and sure enough, there he was, Alexander Pierce, in all his sharp-suited glory.

“Huh. Alright, send him up,” Tony sighed. 

He grabbed a semi-clean rag to wipe the grease from his hands before leaving the workshop, jogging down the stairs to the communal level and waiting by the elevator for Pierce to arrive. 

The elevator panel lit up, a gentle _ping_ echoing out, then the door slid smoothly open and revealed the man himself. 

“Mr Stark,” Pierce smiled, stepping out of the elevator and shaking Tony’s hand with his right, while his left clasped Tony’s elbow. It was a move Tony knew very well, one Obie used to favour. Hell, Tony himself had used it in the past. A subtle power play; a reminder of who was in charge. Tony bit back a curl of his lip, donning the smile he favoured for business rivals, and internally prepared for battle. 

“Mr Secretary,” he replied. “Come on through.”

Tony didn’t wait for Pierce to reply, taking the lead through the communal area - or what would be the communal area, if there was ever anyone other than him living in the tower - down the steps into the conference room. He went straight to the head of the table, throwing himself into the plush leather chair before indicating for Pierce to take the chair on his right. A subtle reminder that this was Tony’s house, and he was in charge around here, and he did not play by the World Security Council’s rules.

If they wanted him to play by their rules, they shouldn’t have nuked Manhattan. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Secretary?” Tony asked, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. 

“I just thought I’d call in, see how you’re doing,” Pierce replied. “That surgery must’ve been a hell of a thing.”

“Nah,” Tony shrugged. “Beats a cave in Afghanistan with no anaesthesia.”

“I’m sure,” Pierce agreed, and he didn’t even blink, the bastard. Most people turned a funny shade of green after being reminded of how exactly the reactor was implanted in the first place, but Pierce could’ve been discussing the weather for all the reaction he had. 

_A formidable opponent_ , Tony thought. _Finally._

“That business with the Mandarin and the President, terrible,” Pierce shook his head. “A sign of the times we live in, huh?”

“A sign of something,” Tony replied. “Mostly that Aldrich Killian’s a psychopathic asshole. Or was.”

“Yes. Extremis. That was… Well, I suppose we should all be glad you neutralised it, shouldn’t we?” Pierce smiled.

“Yeah,” Tony grinned, and he was sure Pierce was far from glad. In fact, he would bet his not inconsiderable fortune on Pierce being disappointed that Tony had buried Extremis where no one would ever get their hands on it again. 

“We were all so relieved when you turned up in Florida,” Pierce continued, and Tony was reminded of the time he went diving with sharks in the Bahamas, seeing their bodies slipping silently through the water, moving closer whenever his back was turned until their fins brushed his shoulder, all with the constant knowledge that at any moment they could turn and attack him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Except now he was far from defenceless. And Pierce brought the fight, whatever it was, into his house. 

“I believe you ended up in Kentucky, was it?” Pierce frowned, false concern etched across his face.

“North Carolina,” Tony lied. 

“Ah yes,” Pierce nodded, and he knew Tony was lying. He was good, but Tony was better. “And you had help, from a local boy?”

“Yeah. I mean, the kid made me a tuna sandwich,” Tony shrugged. “Let me use his garage.”

“His father must be proud,” Pierce said, and Tony imagined the sharks circling, moving closer with each circuit. “His son, saving Iron Man like that.”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “They’re very close apparently.”

They sized each other up, the silence crackling with electricity. Pierce thought he had the drop on Tony. 

He had no idea.

“Well, I’m glad to see you so healthy,” Pierce smiled, and there was the shark. He stood. “I have a meeting at the UN, but we must catch up again soon.”

“Of course,” Tony lied.

He followed Pierce back towards the elevator which JARVIS, bless him, had already called.

“Oh,” Pierce said suddenly, turning with one foot in the elevator. “I was so sorry to hear about you and Miss Potts. Such a shame. I thought you made an excellent couple.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” Tony shrugged casually, but inside he was snarling. “Call again Mr. Secretary.”

“I will,” Pierce nodded, as the doors closed, and he disappeared from view.

“Well fuck you very much,” Tony muttered.

He frowned at the closed doors.

What was that all about? Why did Pierce care so much about Harley? What did a kid from Tennessee matter to the Secretary of the World Security Council?

“Hey, JARVIS?” Tony murmured.

“Yes sir?” 

“Call Natasha. I want to know everything she knows about Alexander Pierce. I’ll be in the workshop.”

* * *

“JARVIS says you’ve been in here for thirty six hours,” Steve Rogers’ voice announced. Tony looked up from his screen, er, screens and frowned at the man entering his lab with what appeared to be a plate of sandwiches.

“How did you get into my tower?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be our tower?” Steve replied. “What with that big A out there? Or is that for asshole?”

“Must be if you’re living here,” Tony quipped, and Steve’s mouth twitched up into a smile. “Jesus, Rogers, how much do you think I eat?” Tony exclaimed, staring at the pile of sandwiches that covered the plate.

“Maybe they’re not just for you,” Steve pointed out. He put the plate on the workbench and swiped the top sandwich for himself, biting into it before asking, “So what are you doing?”

“That’s gross,” Tony pointed at him. “And I’m working. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in Sweden or something?”

“Switzerland,” Steve corrected, fixing him with a look that clearly said he wasn’t buying Tony’s bullshit; he knew Tony knew it was Switzerland. Steve was smarter than Pierce, Tony would give him that. He knew when he was being played. “And I was. Nothing.”

“Sorry,” Tony apologised, and he meant it.

“I know it’s crazy,” Steve sighed, “But ever since Loki - or whoever he was - said that Bucky’s alive, I just… I don’t know. It helps having something to focus on.”

“A project,” Tony nodded, helping himself to a second sandwich.

“Exactly. So what are you working on?”

“My project.” Tony leaned back in his chair, motioning for Steve to pull up a stool. “I had a visitor, few days ago. Alexander Pierce.”

“Secretary of the World Security Council, right?”

“That’s the one,” he nodded. “Ostensibly, he was here to ask how I was after the whole Mandarin thing.”

“And really?”

Tony frowned. Nearly two days and he still couldn’t work it out. 

“He wanted to know about the kid who helped me.”

“What? Why?”

“I have no idea. I think it has something to do with his dad, but I don’t know why. I’m trying to do a little background research.”

“What’ve you got?” Steve asked, leaning his elbows on his knees, and good grief was he on his fourth sandwich already? 

“On the dad? Not much. Not much on the mom either, to be honest. Nothing before eleven years ago.”

“How old’s the kid?”

“Eleven.”

“Huh. Federal agents of some kind?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “Or something. They just… appear in Rose Hill, Tennessee of all places, then five years down the line, he ups and leaves with no trace since.”

Steve hummed around his sandwich. “Sounds like he definitely has training.”

“Yeah. I mean, there’s barely any pictures of this guy. He left in two thousand and six, which is when Facebook opened to the public. But I don’t get what this has to do with Pierce?”

Steve considered this with a slow nod, one hand sneaking out for his, good Lord, sixth sandwich.

“Could he be SHIELD?” he suggested.

“Then why not just ask me outright? Why the cloak and dagger shtick?”

Steve snorted, “Have you met Nick Fury? You know, director of SHIELD. Guy who unironically wears an eyepatch? The one you told me was _the_ spy?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s heartwarming or disturbing how quickly you’ve adapted to the modern world,” Tony observed, “And my God, are you really going to eat seven sandwiches?”

“No,” Steve said with his mouth full. He swallowed, before grinning and adding, “I’m gonna eat ten.”

“Urgh, super soldiers,” Tony muttered. “You’re disgusting and I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Steve grinned. “Anyway, I need to shower. Nat and I are gonna crash here for a couple days, is that okay?”

“Well, I mean, you’re already here,” Tony pointed out. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask before you invite yourself in.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a _don’t mess up my tower_ , Rogers!” Tony called after him. “I’m watching you.”

“If that was true, how did we get in here without you noticing?” Steve yelled back.

“Get fucked!”

“If I’m lucky!”

Tony laughed and shook his head, turning back to his screens, containing all the information there was to find on Thomas Paine and Kimberly Keener.

* * *

When he felt the weight of someone’s gaze on him, Tony looked up from his phone, glancing across the coffee shop, until he spotted the man staring at him. Tony offered him a half-smile, thinking he was a fan, before turning his attention back to his phone, where he was reviewing the latest offering from R&D before Pepper sent her assistant to yell at him again.

The barista called his name; Tony collected his coffee with a smile and a thanks, sipping it as he walked out of the coffee shop, his attention still on his phone. But as he made his way along the street, the hair on the back of his neck prickled, and Tony felt certain someone was following him.

“Hey JARVIS?” he murmured. “Get me security footage from the coffee shop. Then any traffic or dash cam footage on my route, yeah?”

“Of course, sir.”

Once back in his workshop, Tony studied the footage carefully. He couldn’t pick anything in particular out, but he knew someone was following him. 

The feeling continued for the rest of the week. Whenever he left the tower, there was the constant feeling of being watched, being followed, but no faces ever showed up in the security footage twice. Which meant whoever it was, they were careful. And powerful. And numerous. 

Natasha sent him background on Alexander Pierce, but she didn’t have anything on him Tony didn’t already know or couldn’t find out. He cursed. There should be no connection between Harley and Pierce, yet somehow, there was. Or Pierce wanted there to be one. 

Surely that was why his every move was being watched. Just in case he decided to go check up on Harley, there would be someone ready to follow him. Suddenly Harley’s suggestion of retroreflective panels on the suit sounded like an even better idea.

Tony stared at his research into the Paine-Keener family, arms folded, a slight crease between his eyebrows. 

Harley Keener. Eleven. Middle school student, averaging a B+ except in science, where he excelled. Quiet but hard working, with a mouth on him if pushed. Struggled with bullying but refused to name his tormentors out of some misplaced sense of loyalty.

(Tony remembered his own high school experience all too clearly, having skipped middle school entirely, and the seniors who took umbrage at being shown up by a twelve year old kid.)

A good kid. Well-liked by teachers. Worked a paper route from the general store. Never been out of Tennessee. 

Elly Keener. Eight. Elementary school student, top of her class in every subject. Quiet. Lonely. Doesn’t make friends easily. 

Kimberly Keener. Single mom. Working two jobs to support her family. Four days a week at the gas station, seven to three. Three nights a week, four to eleven, and one Saturday a month at the diner. Member of the PTA. But otherwise keeps to herself. Private person. No social media presence. Moved to Rose Hill when she was pregnant with Harley. No records exist before arriving in Rose Hill.

Thomas Paine. Father of two. Engaged to Kimberly Keener since before Elly’s birth. Served time in the military (rumour, not confirmed, no service records to back this up). Worked at the garage five days a week. Quiet, with a wicked sense of humour. Not easy to get to know, but a good guy. Loved science apparently. No records before arriving in Rose Hill. Disappeared without a trace in 2006, claiming he was going to buy scratchers at the store. Only one digital photo existed of him on the whole internet, taken from a distance, side on, showing a jawline that could cut glass and grey eyes. 

Tony dragged a hand across his face, exhaling slowly.

“Who are you?” he muttered. 

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted. “I’ve found a facial match on someone from your trip to the bodega last night.”

“Yeah? Bring him up.”

A picture popped up, a face Tony didn’t recognise and didn’t particularly want to recognise. There was something hard in the man’s eyes. Unyielding. That was the word that sprung to mind.

“Who is he?”

“Jack Rollins. A member of SHIELD’s STRIKE team.”

“What?” Tony exclaimed. “Get me Fury.”

As soon as the call connected, Tony demanded, “Why is your STRIKE team following me?”

“What are you talking about, Stark?”

“I saw one of them in the security footage,” Tony snapped. “Rollins. Why are they following me?”

There was a pause, far too heavy a silence to lead to anything good. 

“Rollins and his team are on a mission for the World Security Council,” Fury said evenly.

_Shit._

“Alright, never mind. Gotta go.”

“Stark, wait-”

“Couldn’t have been him. My mistake. Bye.” 

He hung up before Fury could say anything, his heart pounding a merengue in his chest. Tony took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. 

So.

Pierce had SHIELD’s STRIKE team on a mission. A mission that just so happened to be following Tony. Days after asking about Harley.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Alright, J, I need a car. One that can’t be followed, one that isn’t linked to me. No rentals, because they trace them. And I need a way to get out of here. I need to check on the kid. How long does it take to drive to Tennessee?”

“About fourteen hours, sir.”

“Alright. Get me that car in the next, say, forty minutes?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Great.”

Tony left the workshop, forgoing the elevator to jog up the stairs to the penthouse, working out some of the excess energy before he was stuck in a car for fourteen hours, with only his thoughts for company. He grabbed a change of clothes, shoving them into the backpack Pepper made him buy for the company retreat last year with basic toiletries, enough for a couple of days, before shrugging on a jacket. He ditched his driver’s license and credit cards, stuffing his wallet with around three hundred dollars in cash and shoving it into his back pocket.

“Sir, there is a car waiting in the third floor car park,” JARVIS announced as Tony rode the elevator down to the armoury. “The keys are in the ignition.”

“Thanks, J. Hey, tell Cap that I’m going out of town for a few days, would you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony stepped out of the elevator, collecting two handguns and ammunition. One went into an ankle holster, and the other went into the waistband of his jeans. He hesitated over the prototype watch he’d been working on, one that would transform into a glove and a mini repulsor. It wasn’t finished. And he would only be gone a few days.

“Great. I’m gonna leave my phone here. They shouldn’t be able to trace it, but I don’t wanna take any risks. I’m putting you on lockdown until I get back, okay? You still run the building, but that’s it. You don’t tell anyone anything about where I am or what I’m doing. Not even Cap.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good. See you in a few days.”

* * *

Only a few months ago, he was driving away from Tennessee in a stolen car, and now, in a car of questionable origin - bless JARVIS - he was making his return. Tony drove as quickly as possible, pushing the speed limit and breaking it when he thought he could get away with it, stocking up on coffee and energy drinks to keep him going through the night.

And all the time, his mind was whirring over the same questions, again and again: why Harley? Who was Thomas Paine? What was the connection? Why did it matter to Pierce?

Tony sighed, leaning an elbow against the window and rubbing his forehead.

This was helping no one.

Twisting his grip on the steering wheel, Tony allowed himself a few more miles per hour, pressing his foot down on the accelerator as he sped over the state line into Tennessee.

Only two more hours to go.

* * *

Blue lights lit up the pink-streaked dusk sky as Tony drove into Rose Hill, sending a deep feeling of foreboding sinking through him. He flicked on the radio to the local station, slowing down as he drove past the throng of emergency vehicles scattered in the parking lot of a diner.

The same diner Kimberly Keener worked at.

_“Police are urging caution this evening following an incident at Joe’s Diner on Stephenson Road less than an hour ago, when a male suspect entered the diner and started an altercation with a waitress. The suspect brandished a handgun, and injured a number of staff and customers, before absconding with the waitress he was seen threatening, local woman Kimberly Keener who-”_

“Shit,” Tony hissed, slapping off the radio. 

He was too late. 

Tony risked a few extra miles above the speed limit, figuring all the cops were at the diner anyway. 

He was too late to save Kimberly Keener.

He couldn’t be too late to save the kids.

* * *

To his relief, Tony’s was the only car outside the Keener house. Throwing the car into park, he jumped out, jogging onto the porch and knocking furiously until a small figure was visible through the frosted glass. Then the door opened and Harley was standing there, blinking up at him.

“Tony?”

“Hey buddy, can I come in?” Tony asked, pushing his way into the house without waiting for an answer. “Where’s your sister, is she home?”

“Yeah, she’s upstairs,” Harley frowned. “What are you doing here?” 

“We need to go,” Tony announced.

“What? Why?” Harley pulled a face.

“Okay, listen to me, kid,” Tony said, gripping Harley by the shoulder. “This is serious. We need to go, there are some… really bad guys coming here, and they’re going to hurt you.”

Or worse. Tony really didn’t want to think about the worse, but every time he blinked, all he could see were the blue lights illuminating the sky outside the diner, and hear the radio host’s nasally accent telling him about how the suspect injured staff and customers while kidnapping Kimberly Keener, and all the horrible possibilities came flooding to the front of his mind. 

“Then, shouldn’t we call the police?” Harley asked.

“Harley, kid,” Tony sighed. “The guy who’s behind this, he’s one of the most important men in the government. He already has at least some of SHIELD working for him.”

“Which means he could have the police working for him too,” Harley realised.

Tony nodded, his heart breaking that he had to be the one to shatter this kid’s innocence like that. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

There was no time for sentimentality. 

Not when their lives were on the line.

“What about my mom?” Harley pressed.

“Kid, there was… Something happened at your mom’s work. They got there before me,” Tony explained. “I don’t, I don’t know where she is. I think they took her.”

God, he hoped they took her. He hoped, for Harley and Elly’s sake, that Kimberly Keener was still alive.

“Oh,” Harley said, and he seemed to shrink, and Tony hated himself for being the cause of that. His hand twitched at his side, longing to reach out and touch Harley, to physically check he was okay.

“Who are you?” a voice asked from above. 

Tony looked up and found himself under scrutiny from a small girl with dark hair and knowing eyes, a familiar pink watch on her wrist.

“This is Tony. He’s mom’s friend,” Harley blurted out, shooting Tony a warning glance, which he correctly interpreted as _Just go with it!_

“Hi. You must be Elly,” Tony replied, throwing her a little wave.

And just like that, Tony was hit with a new problem: how on earth was he supposed to convince an eight year old he’d never met before in his life to leave with him now? Tony might not have a lot of experience with kids, but he used to be one, and if anyone tried that on him when he was eight, he would’ve refused point blank. And something in Elly’s eyes told him she wouldn’t give in to anyone without a fight. 

“Elly,” Harley called. “Diamond. Mustang, zero, red.”

Wait, what?

Tony’s head snapped back and forth between them, like he was a tennis match.

“Rebirth?” Elly asked.

“Rebirth,” Harley confirmed. 

Elly’s eyes drifted to Tony, then back to Harley in a silent question.

“Snowfall. Diamond,” Harley said, and although Tony didn’t know whatever code they were using, he recognised the tone as one of a promise. 

Tony hoped he wouldn’t cause Harley to break it.

“I’m gonna get the car ready, okay?” Tony said. “You get your stuff, and we go, okay? Two minutes. No more.”

“Okay,” Harley nodded.

He grabbed Elly’s hand and they ran upstairs.

Tony ran down the porch steps to the car, then stopped.

There were cars approaching. Running to the edge of the driveway, Tony had a clear view of the road below. And the road below was filled with vehicles. Trucks and jeeps, all painted black and without any insignia. Even so, Tony had a feeling he knew exactly who they belonged to. 

Fisting his hands in his hair, he growled in frustration, then sprinted back over to the car, pulling his backpack from the passenger seat before running back inside. He didn’t bother locking the car again. There didn’t seem to be any point.

Harley and Elly were halfway down the stairs when he ran back inside.

“Okay, change of plan,” Tony announced, closing the door behind him. He flicked on the locks, despite knowing they would be futile in defending them. “Back door?”

“What’s going on?” Harley frowned.

“Remember those bad guys I told you about? Yeah, they’re here,” Tony replied. “Come on, back door, now.”

He chivvied the kids through the house, opening the back door slowly and sticking out his head. He could hear the crunch of gravel at the front of the house. Lifting Elly up onto his hip, Tony nudged Harley out of the door, pulling it closed behind them, quietly. 

“When I say go, run for the trees,” Tony whispered.

Harley nodded.

Tony pulled the gun from his waistband, listened carefully, then whispered, “Go!”

They sprinted across the backyard into the nearest cluster of evergreens.

“Come on, keep going,” Tony urged, hoisting Elly further onto his hip. 

Tony heard a shout from the direction of the house, but he didn’t look back; he couldn’t, not when the safety and security of two innocent kids depended on him. Digging deep, he found an extra burst of speed. Harley, with the energy of childhood, caught up easily. 

“How big is this forest?” Tony panted.

“Like, six miles,” Harley replied. “But there’s a forest service road that way.”

Tony weighed up the options. On one hand, there could be… whoever was after them on the forest service road. But on the other hand, it would be a lot quicker than running through the undergrowth, and less chance of breaking an ankle on a hidden rabbit burrow. 

“Alright, lead the way,” he decided. 

Harley adjusted their course, and Tony barely managed to avoid tripping over a tree root, and they raced through the trees. 

By now, there were the very clear sounds of a lot of people with a lot of gear on their trail, sounds that Tony really didn’t want to hear, and he regretted not telling Steve where he was going before he left.

_Could really use a super soldier about now_ , he thought to himself. 

Then suddenly they were on the forest service road, and Tony stumbled at the lack of vegetation. Righting himself, he adjusted his grip on Elly.

“Which way?” Harley asked.

“Uh…” Tony glanced in either direction.

He had no idea where he was, where he was going, or how he was going to get there. 

Screw Steve, he should’ve taken the suit. 

“Tony?” Harley pressed.

“That way,” Tony nodded.

That way was heading away from town, and therefore hopefully away from whoever was chasing them.

“Come on, let’s move,” he added, breaking into a run again. 

They sprinted down the trunk road, gravel crunching underfoot, and Tony knew the sounds of their pursuers were getting closer and barely bit back the urge to growl in frustration.

Why? What was so important about two kids? Why did Pierce and whoever they were want them dead? 

He stepped on a loose stone, which skittered to the side as soon as he put his weight on it, sending him pitching forward. Elly squeaked in his arms, Tony dropped the gun just in time to catch himself, jarring his wrist and his shoulder, and his ankle throbbed.

“Goddamnit,” he cursed.

“Are you okay?” Harley cried. 

“Yeah, keep going,” Tony called back. 

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing the gun, and pressed a kiss into Elly’s hair.

“Sorry, honey,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.” 

Then he was running again, gaining on Harley, even though every step was agony and he’d probably sprained his ankle. That was a problem for another time, when they weren’t running for their lives.

There would be a time when they weren’t running for their lives. 

Probably.

Then they turned a corner and skidded to a halt.

Because there, standing in the middle of the road, was a black-clad figure with dark hair to his - his? her? their? - chin, and a face covered by goggles and some sort of mask.

_Muzzle_ floated through Tony’s mind and he shuddered.

“Don’t look,” Tony whispered, pressing Elly’s face into his shoulder.

Behind him, he could hear their pursuers advancing. Tony swallowed, raising his gun. Harley stepped closer, pressing himself into Tony’s side.

“Move,” Tony ordered, sounding stronger than he felt. “Get out of the way.”

The figure didn’t move. Tony couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. He was just staring at them, his head twitching minutely, as his gaze shifted between them. At least, Tony guessed that was what was happening. He couldn’t tell, not with those things covering the face.

Tony swallowed.

“Move,” he repeated, flicking the safety off of his gun.

In the blink of an eye, the figure pulled a gun from the holster in his thigh and fired off two bullets. 

Tony could hear Harley’s intake of breath, pushing himself further into Tony’s side, and Tony braced himself for the pain.

Only it never came.

Instead, behind him, he heard something fall to the ground.

Whipping around, he found a black uniformed agent lying on his back, with a bullet hole in his forehead.

Rollins. The SHIELD agent. The one from the bodega.

When Tony turned again, the figure in black was moving towards them. He reached up, yanking off his goggles to reveal grey eyes honed on Tony and the kids. Tony raised his gun again.

Then the mask - _muzzle_ , Tony’s brain supplied again - dropped to the floor and Harley breathed, “Dad?”

“Wait, what?” Tony frowned.

And yeah, up close, he could see the similarities with the one picture of Thomas Paine. The same jawline, the same nose.

Paine stalked up to them, throwing Rollins’ body one brief, emotionless glance.

“We gotta go,” he said.

“No chance,” Tony shook his head. “I don’t know who the hell you are but-”

“I am your best chance of surviving this,” Paine interrupted, honing in on Tony. “Your only chance of surviving this.”

“Then clearly you don’t know who I am,” Tony snapped. 

“Anthony Edward Stark, son of Howard and Maria. Born May 29th 1970 in New York. Former CEO of Stark Industries. Currently known by the alias Iron Man, and a founding member of the Avengers Initiative,” Paine rattled off. “They know _everything_ about you. They probably know more about you than you do. And I am trying to save your life.”

“Why?”

Paine hesitated. He looked between Harley and Elly, still with her face hidden in Tony’s shoulder, and for the first time, his expression flickered and Tony saw doubt in there. 

“Because they took them away,” he whispered. “They took my family.”

The sounds of their pursuers were getting closer, drawn no doubt by the gunshots that killed Rollins.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Tony sighed.

“You don’t,” Paine replied. 

They stared into each other's eyes, probably for longer than they should’ve, considering the number of people on their tail.

Tony swallowed.

“You harm one hair on their heads, and I’ll kill you,” he promised.

“I hurt them, I want you to kill me,” Paine nodded. “Follow me.” 

He stalked off, but Harley refused to move until Tony nodded, and Tony noted he spent the entire time glaring furiously at Paine’s back. 

Tony didn’t have time to deal with Harley’s father issues right now. 

He just needed to get them to safety. 

Paine led them down the road to a car that had clearly seen better days, yanking open the driver’s door and climbing inside. Tony bundled the kids into the back seat, climbing in after them, and ordering Paine, “Go!”

The man didn’t need telling twice; he slammed his foot on the accelerator, the engine groaned, gravel flying from underneath the tires, and they flew down the road. 

Tony twisted in his seat, peering out of the back window, through the dust kicked up by the tires, until they made it onto the road.

“What are you doing?” Tony demanded, when Paine pulled over onto the side of the road and climbed out of the car. “Stay here,” Tony ordered the kids, and jumped out after him.

Paine was rooting around in the trunk. Tony heard fabric rip as he slammed the door shut and marched to the rear of the car.

“What the hell are you…?” he trailed off, spotting the metal arm revealed by Paine’s now torn sleeve. “What is that?”

“You gotta drive,” Paine said, tossing him the keys.

Tony caught them expertly with one hand, without looking away from the arm. He itched to get his hands on it. 

“Why?” Tony asked.

Paine reached into the bag in the trunk, emerging with some kind of small disk he slapped onto the metal arm. It jerked and twitched, before hanging limp by his side.

“Cause I can’t,” Paine replied.

“What did you do?”

“Cut all power.”

“Why?”

Paine raised his eyes to Tony’s.

“Because it’s got a tracker. Let’s go,” he added, closing the trunk with his good - human? - arm and stalking towards the passenger seat.

“Fine,” Tony snapped, marching to the driver’s door. “But we’re not done talking about this."

For the barest hint of a second, Paine paused, and Tony could swear he almost smiled.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Paine said, before climbing into the car.

“Did you just sass me?” Tony snapped, yanking on his seat belt and firing up the ignition. 

“Let’s go,” Paine said instead.

“Where?” Tony asked.

“Anywhere.”

“That’s not helpful,” Tony muttered.

He threw the car into gear, turned on the blinkers, and floored the accelerator.

“You telling me you had a plan all worked out?” Paine asked.

“You seem to know everything else about me, so you probably know I didn’t.”

“I don’t know everything about you,” Paine replied, glancing over his shoulder.

Automatically, Tony glanced in the rearview mirror; nothing. 

“Then tell me about our friends back there,” he said. “Who are they?”

Paine studied him from the passenger seat.

“Hydra,” he said. “They’re Hydra.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tony swore.

* * *

Tony drove through the night, Harley and Elly slumped in the back seat, while Paine kept a vigilant watch out of the rear window. Harley fought valiantly to stay awake, glaring at Paine from the back seat, but he eventually fell asleep somewhere around Tupelo. 

“Where am I even driving to?” Tony asked quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Paine replied.

“Okay, new question. Who are you?”

Paine hesitated. Tony glanced across at him, taking his eyes from the road for just a second, and saw Paine’s expression twist into something lost and unsure.

“I don’t know,” he replied eventually.

“You don’t know?” Tony echoed. He snorted. “Right. Sure.”

“They wiped my mind,” Paine said. “Whenever I started to remember, they put my brain in a blender and made me into their own personal assassin.”

“Hydra.”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t remember who you were before?”

“No.”

“Convenient,” Tony sighed. “But you remember them?” he asked, jerking his head towards the back seat.

Paine’s eyes flicker between the sleeping children. His sleeping children. There was no mistaking those eyes, not after meeting Elly. 

“I remember things, some things,” he said slowly. “I remembered… there was a ball. There were kids playing, and there was a ball. And it was familiar. And I remember blonde hair in the snow, and on a pillow. And then… And then I heard them, talking. Laughing.” His voice turned hard. “‘Bout how they were gonna kill my family, and I’d never even know it. That it was so funny that the famous Winter Soldier couldn’t even protect his own family. And-” His voice broke. Paine swallowed, before continuing, “And maybe they should make me do it.”

“Bastards,” Tony swore.

“They didn’t know I remembered,” Paine finished. “So when the main squad left, I broke out. Took what I could, hot-wired a car from a junkyard and drove straight to Tennessee. Too late. I saw you and the kids making a break into the forest. Recognised you.”

“You recognised me?”

“Yeah. You were supposed to be my target once,” Paine explained, and Tony felt a frisson of cold run down his spine. “Then at the last minute, they pulled me out. Changed their minds. I don’t know why.”

“I don’t know if it’s a compliment or not that Hydra wanted me dead,” Tony muttered. “Winter Soldier, what is that?”

“It’s what people call me,” Paine replied. “Not Hydra.”

“What do Hydra call you?”

Paine stared out of the window. Tony risked another glance, and saw Paine’s throat bob. 

“Asset.”

Another chill ran down Tony’s spine. 

What was it like, he wondered, to be reduced to a word? Not even a name, just a word. Even in Afghanistan, the Ten Rings still called him Stark, and he had Yinsen too. But to be totally alone, called Asset, even without the mind wipes, it was so horribly dehumanising.

Tony reached out, his hand fishing in the air for a moment, before closing around Paine’s shoulder, squeezing briefly, before letting go again.

Paine looked at him in surprise. 

“Alright,” Tony sighed. “Going back to the initial question, where am I driving to?”

“I don’t know,” Paine ground out.

“I know,” Tony replied, in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “I mean, we gotta figure this shit out. Because clearly Hydra is going to come after us. Big picture. But small picture: I have spent way too many hours driving a car over the last two days, and pretty soon, I am going to crash. With your arm out of action, we’re gonna have to stop so I can sleep. And we’re gonna have to have a conversation about that arm, by the way.”

“If we disable the tracker, then I can use it,” Paine said.

“Can’t you just take it off?”

“No.”

“Alright, disabling the tracker it is. How about…” Tony peered through the windscreen at the passing interchange sign. “Jackson? We’ll stop, find a motel, load the kids into bed, then I can poke about in your arm, and then we get some sleep, okay? Okay?”

“Okay,” Paine agreed.

“Great,” Tony sighed, and indicated for the next exit. 

* * *

Tony went into the reception of the Motel 6 and paid cash for a room, while Paine kept watch in the car with the kids. When Tony returned, he helped Paine manoeuvre Elly into his one functioning arm, before slinging his bag over his own shoulder and picking up Harley. They carried the kids into the room, placing them on the smaller of the two beds. Tony carefully removed their shoes, and was struck by the long-forgotten memory of being half-awake as Ana did the exact same thing to him. He could only have been about six, younger than Elly definitely, and until that moment, he’d forgotten it completely.

Swallowing the familiar ache of loss that came with memories of Ana or Jarvis, Tony placed the kids’ shoes on the floor, before nodding to Paine to take a seat at the small round coffee table in the corner of the room. 

“You always carry tools with you?” Paine murmured when Tony sat down in the sound chair with the miniature toolbox from his bag.

“I’m a mechanic,” Tony shrugged. “Alright, let’s see what we have here. Wait, before I touch anything, there’s nothing, I don’t know, explosive in here is there?”

“Not that I know about.”

“That’s reassuring,” Tony muttered. 

He carefully lifted just enough of the panels to peer inside, looking for anything with the potential to go boom, only to be floored by the technology in front of him. It was incredible and advanced and so far ahead of anything from its time.

But there was the crux: its time.

The technology was still advanced for today, but the parts, they were old. Even older than Tony himself. 

He glanced up at Paine. His face was shuttered, his flesh fist clenched where it sat on top of his knee.

_You don’t make sense_ , Tony thought to himself, and turned back to the arm. 

Tony lost himself in the mechanics of the technology, to the point where he forgot what he was working on was an arm, making his way through it from top to toe, removing the tracking device and the three bugs he found in there, and fixing up some of the connections, which should give Paine smoother movements. Finishing up, he replaced all the panels, then looked up and saw Paine’s face drawn, his jaw tense.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“Fine,” Paine hissed.

“You felt that, didn’t you?” Tony realised, feeling sick to his stomach.

Paine gave a jerky nod.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Tony demanded.

Behind them, Elly stirred, and Tony froze. Only once she’d rolled over and fallen still again, did he turn back to Paine. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he whispered.

“Why would I?” Paine asked.

“Because if I knew you could feel it, I would’ve stopped,” Tony retorted.

Paine blinked at him. It took a moment for Tony to name the expression on Paine’s face, and then it hit him: surprise.

Paine was surprised that Tony didn’t want to hurt him

“Okay, we need to make a deal, right now,” Tony told him. “Whatever we do next, if you’re in pain, you tell me. And if something I’ve done causes that pain, you definitely tell me. Deal?”

He stuck out his hand.

Paine glanced between Tony’s hand and his face, his expression turning unreadable once more, then shook his hand.

“Deal,” he agreed.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep,” Tony sighed.

“You sleep,” Paine corrected, picking the small disk from his metal arm. A few seconds later, the arm whirred into life. Paine rotated his shoulder a few times. “You sleep,” he repeated. “I’m gonna swap the car out for a new one. Just in case.”

“Alright,” Tony agreed, even though the thought of Paine leaving filled him with inexplicable nervousness. It was probably because he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure he could trust the guy. Nothing to do with the fact Paine could be in danger if he left. 

Paine nodded, lingering for a moment to look at the two sleeping children, then swept out of the room silently. 

Tony locked the door behind him, testing the strength of the lock, before slipping the back of a chair beneath the handle for good measure. He unclipped the ankle holster, and slipped it into the bedside cabinet, then hid the gun from his waistband under a pillow. Finally he kicked off his sneakers, managed to peel off his jeans and his hoodie, and fell face first into the empty bed.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

A sharp finger prodding him in the shoulder dragged Tony out of sleep. Twisting his neck so his face was only half smushed into the pillow rather than completely, he found himself looking up into Elly’s face.

“Yes?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“I’m hungry,” she informed him.

“Are you?”

“Yes. I want breakfast.”

“Alright,” Tony sighed. 

He reached out, taking Elly’s wrist and turning it so he could read the time on her _Dora the Explorer_ watch. 

9:13am.

A little over four hours of sleep.

He’d done more on less. 

With a groan, Tony pushed himself into a sitting position, yawning widely and stretching his arms above his head. Elly glanced around the room from her perch on the edge of the mattress.

“Where’s…” she hesitated.

“He went to get a new car. He’ll be back,” Tony promised. “Where’s Harley?”

“Bathroom,” Elly replied.

“Okay,” Tony nodded.

He climbed out of bed, pulling on his jeans and his hoodie from where he’d dropped them on the floor the night before. When Elly wasn’t looking, he retrieved the guns.

“You stay here,” he told Elly, then knocked on the bathroom door. “Harley, I’m going to get breakfast. Stay here, and for the love of God, do not use those towels, I think something died in them!”

“Okay!” Harley called back.

Removing the chair from under the door, Tony slipped out and made his way towards the reception. The desk clerk had promised a free breakfast the night before, but after seeing the rooms, Tony wasn’t holding his breath for the most gourmet of affairs. 

In fact, breakfast turned out to be a box of donuts, Wal-Mart’s cheapest, and possibly from the previous day, but Tony decided they’d take it. They could hit McDonalds before they left.

As he headed back towards their room, a car pulled into the parking lot. Tony tensed, glancing over his shoulder, until the door of the battered old Toyota opened and Paine stepped out.

Tony let out a sigh of relief, then raised a hand in greeting. 

Paine strode across the parking lot, giving Tony a sharp nod as they fell into step.

“Donut?” Tony offered. “Fair warning, I think they’re yesterday’s.”

“Thanks,” Paine said in surprise, taking a donut from the box. 

“You’re welcome,” Tony nodded.

He glanced up at Paine, taking advantage of the morning light to get a good look at the man for the first time. There was something familiar about him, underneath the mop of dark hair, and not just from the one and only photo Tony’d managed to find of Paine before his disappearance. Which was crazy, because other than that, the only pictures Tony’d been looking at recently were pictures of Bucky Barnes, when Tony was definitely-not-but-maybe-kind-of looking for leads on not-Loki’s claim that Bucky Barnes was alive.

Tony wondered absently where Steve and Natasha would turn for leads now it seemed Switzerland was a dead end. He glanced up at Paine again, then froze.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Paine paused, realising Tony was no longer walking beside him, turning and raising his brow questioningly. 

“You okay?” Paine asked.

“Uh…” Tony replied eloquently. His brain stuttered, the similarities now jumping out at him with lightning clarity he couldn’t believe he’d missed before. 

“Tony?”

“Who are you?” Tony blurted out.

“I told you, I don’t know,” Paine replied, and he wasn’t lying; Tony could see it in his eyes. 

“And I’m guessing you don’t remember how you ended up working for Hydra?”

“No,” Paine shook his head. A small frown creased his forehead. “I remember… I don’t remember.”

Tony closed the distance between them, shoving the donut box into Paine’s hands.

“Don’t kill me?” he pleaded, before sliding his hands into Paine’s hair, pushing it back to reveal his face. 

And Bucky Barnes stared back at him, grey eyes full of trepidation and fear, and Tony swallowed.

“Bucky Barnes,” he murmured.

“What?”

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” Tony said. “Not-Loki was right. You’re alive.”

“Bucky Barnes?” Paine - no, Bucky - echoed.

“James Buchanan Barnes, sergeant with the 107th regiment during World War Two, until you joined the Howling Commandos, the team assembled by Captain America, Steve Rogers. The only Commando to give his life in battle. Or so we thought,” Tony finished.

“I don’t remember that,” Bucky said, his voice thick, and he sounded so scared and so young, it was easy to forget that technically he was pushing a hundred. 

“You will,” Tony promised, and he didn’t know where the conviction came from, but he felt it in his bones.

He would do whatever it took to get Bucky Barnes back.

A wave of burning anger filled him with the realisation that Hydra would’ve known exactly who Bucky was when they found him. They probably turned him into a weapon simply because he was Steve’s best friend. What better way to get revenge on the man who tore down your organisation than to convert his best friend to your cause?

Then Tony realised his hand was on Bucky’s face and his thumb was stroking back and forth against his truly magnificent cheekbones, while Bucky stared at him.

Withdrawing his hand awkwardly, Tony pointed to the donut box and said, “Donuts. Kids. We should, uh, go.”

“Yes,” Bucky nodded, following Tony towards their room. 

But before they went inside, Tony stopped again, turning and sticking out his hand.

“I’m Tony.”

Bucky stared at the hand, before shaking it carefully.

“I’m Bucky.”

Tony smiled, nodding once, before letting them back into the room. 

“I have donuts,” he announced. “Which we are going to eat in the car, yes?” he added, turning to Bucky. “Right?”

“Right,” Bucky nodded slowly. “We should keep moving. I’ll drive.”

“Have you slept?” Tony asked.

“No, but-”

“But nothing. I’m driving. You sleep,” Tony insisted. “Don’t test me, Barnes,” he warned when Bucky looked like he might argue. “You are not going to win.” 

Bucky held up his hands in silent surrender. Tony’s mouth twitched, before turning back to the kids.

“Alright, come on. Let’s move,” he ordered. “Breakfast in the car. Follow-” _your dad_ “-Bucky.”

* * *

At Bucky’s direction, Tony drove west. When Tony insisted he get some sleep, Bucky huffed, before tipping back the passenger seat just enough, curling in on himself and drifting off, although Tony remained in no doubt that Bucky would wake in a second if anything happened. 

“You guys okay back there?” Tony asked quietly, glancing in the rearview mirror at Harley and Elly.

“Harley’s sulking,” Elly informed him.

“Harley? Kid? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Harley muttered.

“Right, sure, very convincing. Want to try again?” 

Harley sighed; when Tony glanced back, Harley was glaring at the back of Bucky’s head.

Oh.

“Must be weird, huh?” Tony murmured. “Seeing him again?”

Harley swallowed.

“He left us,” he muttered. “Why are you trusting him?”

“Because he didn’t leave you, kid,” Tony pointed out gently. “He was taken. He didn’t want to leave you.”

A mulish silence came from the back seat.

Tony tried again, “Even if it was his fault, he can’t turn the clock back. But he’s here. He’s trying to keep you safe.”

“We wouldn’t be in trouble if it wasn’t for him,” Harley argued.

Tony realised Harley was determined to hold on to his anger for as long as possible. Tony couldn’t blame him; twenty two years after Howard’s death, and Tony was still hanging on to his own resentment. He wasn’t exactly the poster boy for healthy father-son relationships. 

“Give him a chance,” he said softly. “Elly, honey, you want to play I spy?”

“Okay! I spy with my little eye… something beginning with… B.”

Tony spent the morning playing car games with Elly, trying to guess her increasingly complicated answers for I spy, until he pulled over to a rest stop, at which point Bucky instantly woke up, blinking like a baby owl. Tony’s lips twitched. He bit back his laughter, feeling fairly certain laughing at an assassin was a bad plan. 

“You watch the munchkins, I’ll get us lunch,” Tony told Bucky, climbing out of the car.

Bucky nodded, stretching his arms above his head, before directing Harley and Elly towards a picnic bench by the tree line. Tony glanced over his shoulder, flicking the hood of his hoodie up, before stepping into the Subway. 

As he handed over the last of his cash, Tony realised they would have to do something about money, and fast. Hell, they need a plan, period. Driving west wasn’t a plan. Driving west was a surefire way to run out of gas and get caught by Hydra.

Hydra, Jesus. The implications were staggering. Hydra were the ones coming after them, and they were from the SHIELD Strike team, on a mission for Alexander Pierce. Which meant Hydra could be embedded through SHIELD and the whole government.

“Steve’s gonna flip out,” Tony muttered under his breath. 

He would not like to be in Hydra’s shoes when Steve found out that not only was Hydra active and going strong, but were responsible for torturing and brainwashing his best friend for seventy years. Yeah, Tony would take a side of popcorn, sit back and watch the chaos. 

“Guys, lunch,” Bucky called to Harley and Elly as Tony approached, drawing them over from where they’d been chasing each other through the trees. 

Elly instantly bounced over, clambering onto the bench, while Harley dragged his feet, shooting Bucky a glare before sitting next to his sister. 

“Here you go. Sandwiches,” Tony announced, swinging his leg over the bench and dropping down next to Bucky. “Soda, and… chips,” he added, pulling the bags out of his pockets. 

“Thank you Tony,” Elly chirruped.

“You’re welcome, Thumbelina,” Tony grinned.

“Thumbelina?” Bucky echoed.

“She’s small and cute,” Tony shrugged, biting into his sandwich.

Bucky’s mouth twitched, and Tony would almost swear he saw the beginning of a smile, and felt a rush of pride at that.

“Alright,” Tony said once they were done, “Everyone under five foot, go play. We’re gonna talk about some stuff.”

“What stuff?” Elly demanded.

“Adult stuff. Scram.”

Elly stuck out her tongue at him, before slapping Harley on the shoulder and shouting, “You’re it!”

“We need a plan,” Tony told Bucky, once the kids were racing around, squealing at each other, looking every inch like normal children, who hadn’t spent the last twenty hours or so on the run from Hydra assassins who wanted them dead. “And cash. Fast. I only have two hundred bucks on me.”

“I’ve got cash,” Bucky replied.

“From where?”

“Hydra. They don’t know it’s gone,” he explained. 

“Can they track it?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Okay, good. But what do we do now? As much as I want to tear them apart for this, we have those two kids to think about,” Tony pointed out.

“Why do you care about them?” Bucky asked.

“They’re good kids,” Tony shrugged, watching them play. “Harley kind of saved my life a few months ago.”

“I remembered something,” Bucky admitted.

Tony turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Bucky swallowed.

“I remember him as a baby,” he murmured. “He was so small. I remember him lying in my arms, and he’s so small, so fragile. And I’m responsible for him.”

Tony nudged him with his elbow.

“We’re responsible for them,” he corrected.

“You could walk away right now,” Bucky pointed out.

“No, I can’t,” Tony shook his head, taking a sip of his soda. “My chance to walk away ended when Alexander Pierce came knocking on my door, trying to find Harley. He pulled me into this. And I’m going to make him regret it.”

Bucky huffed.

“Not bad, Stark,” he murmured.

“I’ll have you know I’m fucking fantastic,” Tony sniffed “So: plan.”

“Canada,” Bucky said. “I know where we can cross the border.”

“Canada,” Tony nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen Sobri's art in the first chapter, go back and check it out now! Trust me, you won't regret it.

“Can I get some water?” Tony asked.

“Sure,” Steve nodded. The chair legs screeched as he pushed it back, crossing to the door. Sticking his head out, he caught the attention of the uniformed officer waiting down the hall. “Can we get a couple of bottles of water, thanks?”

The officer nodded, disappearing down the hall. Steve waited until he came back, taking the water with a nod, then watched the officer move back down the hall before closing the door again.

“Here you go,” he said, passing a bottle to Tony.

“Thanks,” Tony murmured, cracking the seal.

“So, Canada?” Steve said, taking his seat again. “Why Canada?”

Tony shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“And you trusted him, just like that?”

“Yes,” Tony replied instantly. 

“You trusted him back then?” Steve pressed.

Tony studied him. Steve couldn’t read Tony anymore. He’d become a closed book in the past six months. In fact, Steve suspected Tony could read him better than he could read Tony now. 

“He’s Bucky Barnes,” Tony shrugged. “Who wouldn’t trust Bucky Barnes?”

“Well, I would,” Steve agreed. “Most people would be put off by the whole Hydra assassin part though.”

“I’m not most people,” Tony replied automatically.

“No,” Steve said quietly. “You’re not.”

* * *

Bucky followed Tony into the motel room, watching him hustle the kids into the room with ease, as if he’d been raising them their entire lives. 

As if he was their father, not Bucky. 

He didn’t feel much like a father. He knew, in an abstract way, that Harley and Elly came from him, even if the first time he remembered them, he didn’t know their names or faces. He just knew they were his. 

Then he saw them sneaking out of the house with Tony as Hydra arrived, and Bucky felt a fierce surge of protectiveness. He didn’t feel love, didn’t even know what love was, he just knew he would do whatever it took to keep the children safe. 

Face to face with them, it was impossible to deny their connection, especially with Elly. She looked so like him, her long dark hair enforcing their similarities. Bucky knew Harley looked more like their mother, although he couldn’t recall what she looked like. Her name was Kimberly, at least that’s what Tony said. But there was something about that name which didn’t sit quite right. It tasted wrong in Bucky’s mouth for some reason. He couldn’t remember why.

His fingers itched to pull out his notebook and write it down. 

A few hours ago, when they stopped to buy dinner, Tony returned to the car not only with a collection of supermarket ready-to-eat salads and snacks, but with a small notebook and a pen which he handed to Bucky. 

“So you don’t forget anything again,” Tony said, before picking a half-asleep Elly onto his lap and encouraging her to eat something before she passed out.

Bucky stared at him for a good minute, his mouth hanging open, before studying the notebook. Fake leather bound, about the size of his hand. Bucky flicked off the ribbon of elastic holding it closed, leafing through the slightly yellowed, lined pages, all blank and waiting for him to write. The pen was a standard ballpoint with a cap, and it fitted neatly into the smaller elastic loop on the notebook, ensuring he wouldn’t lose it. Bucky ran his hand over the smooth, slightly plasticky cover once more.

He swallowed, glancing up at Tony.

“Thanks,” he murmured, pushing the notebook into his pocket. 

During the car ride to the motel, Bucky’d started to fill up the pages with scraps and memories as they filtered through the haze that was his mind. He remembered lying on the floor with Harley as a baby, watching in fascination as the baby tried to push himself up onto his knees, his little face scrunching in anger every time he failed. He remembered his mother clipping him on the ear for something. He remembered watching a man’s head explode through the sight of his sniper rifle and feeling nothing. 

“Come on, bed. Let’s move,” Tony’s voice cut through his thoughts, and then Bucky was back in the motel room, watching Tony help Elly out of her sneakers. He held back, hovering by the door, until both Harley and Elly were curled up in bed.

“Night night,” Elly mumbled to Tony.

“Good night,” Tony whispered, running a hand through her hair. “Night kid,” he added, ruffling Harley’s hair.

Then Elly’s eyes, so similar to his own, found Bucky’s and he forgot how to breathe.

“Night night,” she echoed.

“G’night,” Bucky nodded gruffly. 

He glanced at Harley, but all he received in return was a glare, before Harley rolled over, pulling the duvet over his shoulder angrily.

It stung, Harley’s anger, even though Bucky didn’t really understand why. He knew objectively, but emotionally he didn’t quite get it. 

“You want the bathroom first?” Tony asked.

“No, go ahead,” Bucky shook his head.

Tony disappeared into the bathroom, and only then did Bucky move from the door, checking the lock on the door first. And then he realised there was a problem.

When Tony returned from the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt, Bucky was standing at the end of the empty double bed, staring at it.

Bed singular. 

“There’s only one bed,” Bucky pointed out.

“So?” Tony replied, pulling back one corner of the duvet and climbing in with a groan. “I don’t bite. Well. Not without a safe-word.”

Bucky blinked at him. He didn’t know what Tony was talking about, but some part of his brain did, because he was flushed and hot and it was frustrating because he didn’t know _why_.

“Get in, Terminator,” Tony mumbled, lying on one side and curling in on himself. “I promise not to aggressively cuddle you until the third date.”

What? 

Tony wanted him to get into the bed with him? 

Why?

There was only one bed last night too, but it didn’t matter because Bucky’d been too busy jacking a car from the junkyard. So Tony slept in the bed then Bucky slept in the car the following morning. It wasn’t an issue last night.

It was definitely an issue tonight.

Deciding to put that dilemma on hold, Bucky disappeared into the bathroom, where he found himself staring into the dusty mirror at his own reflection.

It didn’t seem real.

Objectively he knew it was his own face staring back at him, but Bucky couldn’t quite accept it. There was something wrong about it. 

When he finally tore his gaze away, he pulled out his notebook, turning to a new page and writing _Kimberly - wrong? Face - wrong?_ He didn’t know what he meant, and he didn’t know what was wrong with either of them, but Tony had faith he would remember, so Bucky decided to trust him. 

It would happen.

He would remember.

Stripping out of his clothes, Bucky dumped them in a pile on the floor. He stared at the pile for a minute, then reached down, picking them up and folding them carefully. 

Yes.

That felt right. 

Picking up his notebook again, he added _Neat_ and underlined it twice.

He washed his face with the tepid water from the tap, before cleaning his teeth with a free toothbrush Tony’d picked up from the rest stop this afternoon, scrunching his nose a little at the taste of the mint. That went in his notebook too, before he scooped up his pile of clothes, carrying them out into the room, and placing them carefully onto the table. Except for his notebook, which he carried over to the bed, running his thumb back and forth across the cover.

Bucky paused again, staring at Tony, who’d rolled over and was facing away from him, his mouth slack with sleep.

Bucky swallowed.

Then before he could think twice, he climbed into bed.

It felt strange, sitting in a bed. He clutched at his notebook, running his finger back and forth, because it felt like he might float away if he didn’t.

The bed felt wrong, and it wasn’t just because he expected the chair. It felt wrong from before. Did he not sleep in a bed, before he became the Winter Soldier? Sleeping in a bed was normal, right? So why didn’t he? 

He quickly quashed the voice in his head that whispered _Assets don’t need beds_ because he wasn’t the Asset.

“I’m Bucky,” he whispered. “My name is Bucky. My name is Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

“Hey Memento,” Tony murmured, and Bucky started. He’d been sure Tony was asleep, from the expression on his face to his slowed breathing. Bucky found himself impressed; not many people could fool the Winter Soldier. “Go to sleep,” Tony added.

“Sorry,” Bucky whispered.

Reluctantly, he put his notebook aside and lay down, trying to get comfortable as quickly as possible, so he wouldn’t disturb Tony.

“Hey,” Tony mumbled, once Bucky settled. “Your name is Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky smiled.

“Thanks Tony.”

“N’problem,” Tony yawned. “Night.”

“Good night,” Bucky replied softly. 

* * *

When Bucky woke the next morning, he was instantly aware of the warmth of another body right next to him. Opening his eyes, he found Tony curled up next to him. Clearly he’d moved closer during the night, although there were still several inches of mattress between them. Bucky stared at Tony’s sleeping face, waiting for the inevitable panic of having another person sleeping so close to him.

Only, it never came.

Moving slowly to avoid waking Tony, Bucky sat up, swinging his legs out of the bed, before picking up his notebook. Below his notes from the night before, he added _Sleeping next to Tony - okay?_ It didn’t make sense, but at least it didn’t make sense in a good way. 

Putting his notebook aside, he stood and padded through to the bathroom, pulling on the light with the yellowing cord. The fan wheezed into life overhead; Bucky shot it a wary look, unsure how he felt about the sound. Deciding he could live with it, Bucky stepped out of his boxers and under the lukewarm spray of the shower, scrubbing the dirt from his hair. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he showered. Or was washed. Bucky squirted a little of the shampoo-body wash mix from the plastic container screwed into the tile onto his hand, sniffing it tentatively. He’d already discovered, in the last two days, that he did _not_ like certain smells. But this one seemed okay, so he squirted more into his palm, rubbing it into a lather, and rubbing it into his hair. His fingers caught on the tangles; combing them out was going to be a nightmare, he realised. 

Once he was done, Bucky dried himself off as best he could with the thin towel, squeezing the excess water from his hair, and pulling on his boxers once more. He paused, wiping the condensation from the mirror with his flesh hand, and stared at his reflection once more.

It still felt wrong.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, Tony was awake and shifting through the bag of clothes Bucky had liberated from a charity donation bin.

“Morning,” Tony greeted.

Bucky nodded, edging closer. He should probably choose clean clothes, something less conspicuous than the outfit Hydra made him wear, although the thought of trying on something different made his brain itch. 

“I know you two are awake,” Tony called, without looking up. “Elly, shower, Harley, teeth. Then swap.”

Bucky watched Harley and Elly abandon the pretence of sleep with exaggerated sighs and quiet grumbling. Harley still looked at him suspiciously, so Bucky avoided looking into his face for too long. Instead he watched Elly’s wide yawn, her face scrunching up as she rubbed her knuckles into her eyes to dislodge the sleep. Her hair stuck up like parts of a bird’s next, and Bucky’s fingers twitched at his side with the urge to smooth it down.

“Here,” Tony said, drawing his attention and tossing a pair of jeans at him. “Those should fit.”

“Thanks,” Bucky nodded. 

“Pick a shirt, any shirt.”

Tony held out a pile of t-shirts; Bucky pulled out a deep blue one with long sleeves, relieved to discover it felt soft against his fingers.

“You want a comb?” Tony asked. He pointed to his backpack. “Bag, front pocket.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Bucky replied, deciding it was too much work to attempt to detangle his hair today. Instead he used the rubber band he’d picked off the ground the day before to tie his hair back into a ponytail. 

Feeling daring, he snatched up a jacket from the pile of clothes which looked like it would fit and smelled clean, glancing at Tony just to double check he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Shrugging on the jacket, he told Tony, “I’ll grab us some breakfast,” before unlocking the door and slipping out of the motel room. 

The clouds were grey overhead, a moody purple blue signalling rain to come, and brought a breeze with a cold edge to it, licking its way under Bucky’s coat. He shivered, pulling the zipper up under his chin. 

At the motel reception, he collected apples and muffins for all of them, and filled a paper cup with what stood for coffee for Tony, before returning to the room, scanning the parking lot and surrounding area for anyone who might be watching. He rapped out _Malibu_ in morse code against the door, the signal they’d agreed on the day before, so Tony knew it was him and didn’t shoot him in the head when he opened the door. 

“Coffee,” he said, holding out the cup.

“Good man,” Tony grinned. He took a gulp, then grimaced. “Coffee may be a generous description.”

“I don’t make it, I just picked it up,” Bucky shrugged. 

“And for that I thank you,” Tony nodded.

Elly emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and Tony handed her a fresh set of clothes, both of them averting her eyes while she dressed.

She might’ve technically been his daughter, but she was eight. It was weird. And Tony seemed to feel the same way, much to his relief.

“I can’t get the knots out of my hair,” Elly announced.

“Okay, sit and eat your breakfast,” Tony told her, “And I’ll play hairdresser. And I promise I won’t give you a faux hawk like Hope Pym did to me when she was six.”

Bucky watched Tony tease the knots out of Elly’s hair as he picked at his own muffin, taking in the care Tony took with her. His hands were gentle, as gentle as they were two days ago when he worked on the arm. Tony’s anger at discovering his actions had hurt Bucky was unnerving. No one ever cared about hurting him before.

“There you go. All done,” Tony murmured a few minutes later.

Bucky heard the shower switch off in the bathroom. He glanced across the room, and saw a pile of fresh clothes for Harley, already picked out by Tony. Bucky’s lips twitched, but then his smile fell, a surge of guilt flooding him. Pushing off of the wall, he crossed to collect his notebook, snapping the elastic as he opened it, and wrote _Tony - better dad_.

Bucky slammed the notebook shut, running his thumbs back and forth over the cover as he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt sick. He could taste bile in his throat. He didn’t know what to do, so he didn’t do anything but breathe. 

Then he felt a hand brush his shoulder, and his eyes snapped open, expecting to see Tony standing beside him.

It wasn’t Tony.

Elly bit her lip, her finger running along the seam of his shirt.

“Do you want a hug?” she blurted out.

“What?” Bucky blinked.

“You look scared,” Elly shrugged, watching her foot as she ran the toe of her sneaker back and forth over the threadbare carpet. “When I’m scared, mom gives me a hug, and then I’m not so scared. I thought…”

She blushed, ducking her head. Bucky could feel Tony watching them: unobtrusively, pretending he was busy folding their dirty clothes, but watching them like a hawk. Bucky swallowed.

“Sure,” he replied. “That sounds good.”

Forcing himself to put aside his notebook, Bucky held his arms awkwardly, unsure what you did with your arms with a hug. It burned. Who didn’t know how to hug someone? And what kind of father couldn’t hug his daughter?

The panic that threatened to bubble up once more was quickly dispelled when Elly clambered onto his knee and wrapped her arms around his neck. Bucky sucked in a breath, feeling her nestle into his chest, his arms trembling as they held his daughter. Glancing across the room, he caught sight of the soft smile gracing Tony’s features.

Bucky bit his lip, then forced himself to relax, pulling Elly close and burying his face into her hair. 

He could hear her heartbeat, a soft _thump thump_ in her chest, slow and steady. Her heart wasn’t racing with fear as with so many of the people he touched.

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he touched someone with the intent to provide comfort rather than harm. 

He heard the bathroom door unlock, heard Harley’s footsteps return to the room and falter, no doubt at the sight of his baby sister in Bucky’s arms, before Tony handed him clean clothes. Elly’s hand fisted in the collar of his shirt and Bucky had to inhale sharply to stop the pinpricks in his eyes from turning into tears.

When it was finally time to go, Bucky simply stood up, shifting Elly onto his hip with one hand, while picking up his notebook with the other and pocketing it. As he passed Tony on the way out of the room, Tony smiled at him, and was Bucky crazy to think he looked a little proud?

* * *

They pulled over at a rest stop at midday, decamping from the car for an hour. Harley and Elly instantly raced off, stretching their legs after far too long stuck in the car. Bucky’s eyes tracked them, keeping one ear on them and the other listening for the sounds of a threat approaching.

On the other side of the car, Tony unfolded himself from the driver’s seat, linking his fingers and stretching his arms above his head. Dropping his arms, Tony turned to Bucky, leaning on the roof of their current junk yard hotwire.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, surprised to discover he meant it. 

Tony smiled at him. After nearly two days, Bucky was slowly beginning to grow accustomed to Tony smiling at him. The first time it happened, it was so alien, everything in him had railed against it, his brain screaming _wrong, get away, not safe_. But Bucky liked Tony’s smiles. They were comforting. 

“We should eat,” Bucky said, nodding towards the kids.

Tony glanced over his shoulder at them.

“Let them run for a while,” he decided. 

And Bucky knew he should argue, but he trusted Tony. And wasn’t that terrifying?

“Alright,” he agreed. 

In a flash, Bucky rounded the car, his hand fisting in the back of Tony’s hair. Tony yelped, trying to tug himself free.

“What the hell, Barnes?” he exclaimed. 

“Get free,” Bucky ordered. “Disarm me.”

Tony huffed. He tried to wriggle free to no avail.

“I could’ve killed you by now,” Bucky informed him, releasing his grip. “You need to be faster. Don’t think, just react. I’m gonna do that again, and this time you’re gonna get free.” 

He returned his hand to Tony’s hair, winding the hair around his fingers for good measure.

“Cover my hand with your right,” he instructed. “Pin me in place.”

“Don’t I want to get rid of you?” Tony snapped.

“Yeah, but if you don’t hang on, soon as you move, I’m gonna kill you,” Bucky explained. 

Tony sighed, but he did as instructed, holding onto Bucky’s fist with surprising strength.

“Good. Now step back and elbow me in the gut. Don’t turn, just move back,” Bucky continued. “ _Then_ you turn. Hit me in the face as you put your arm over the top of mine. Right hand on my shoulder, that’s it. Left goes over my arm, then under the other side. You wanna get your arm just behind my elbow, you feel it? Yeah? Then grip your right arm with your left. Drop your weight. Then when you lift it again, press down on my shoulder, and you can dislocate the arm. Try it.”

Bucky could read the uncertainty in Tony’s eyes, but it was hidden behind the determination. Tony dropped his weight, then stood, almost perfectly pushing against Bucky’s elbow joint until Bucky tapped out.

“Good. Again,” Bucky ordered.

Tony rolled his eyes, but turned his back on Bucky obligingly.

“I want this to become second nature to you,” Bucky added.

They ran through the technique several times, before moving on. Bucky taught Tony a gun disarmament technique, running through it until Tony was almost quick enough to take Bucky down, which meant he was certainly good enough to disarm any unenhanced human. 

Tony held out his hand, offering Bucky a hand up from the ground; Bucky took it, Tony’s grip sure and strong against his hand as he hauled Bucky onto his feet. 

“Not bad,” Bucky said, brushing dirt from his jeans.

“Thanks,” Tony replied. 

Putting his fingers in his mouth, Tony whistled, startling Harley and Elly where they were crouched at the foot of a tree.

“Lunchtime,” Tony called, and the kids scrambled towards the picnic table. 

As Tony handed out sandwiches to them, Bucky tensed, hearing a car rumbling up the track towards them. His hand moved to his waist, gripping the handle of his knife as a sedan rolled into the parking lot. Tony’s hand settled on his shoulder, a warning pressure just enough to draw Bucky’s attention from the single minded focus.

“We look like a normal family,” Tony murmured.

“They could be Hydra,” Bucky replied. 

“Or they could be tourists going to the restroom.”

Despite his words, Bucky noticed Tony’s hand was on the gun he kept in the back of his waistband. It was a relief to see Tony was taking the threat of Hydra seriously. Or perhaps it was the protection of Harley and Elly he took seriously. Either way, it bolstered Bucky’s confidence to know he had Tony watching his back. 

He was unaccustomed to the feeling of someone watching his back, but it was a good feeling, he decided, making a mental note to write that in his notebook later.

The sedan’s doors opened, Bucky tensed, gripping the knife, then three kids spilled out of the backseat, racing towards the restrooms and screeching at each other while their parents lumbered after them. A few minutes later, they emerged, returning to their car and driving away.

Bucky relaxed.

For a moment, Tony rested his weight on Bucky’s shoulder, his own sigh of relief, before sitting down and engaging Harley in conversation, opening Elly’s bottle of soda for her.

Bucky glanced around, searching the landscape for some sign of movement, of something or someone who shouldn’t be out there. 

It was too easy.

No one escaped Hydra without a fight.

* * *

That night, they ate Chinese takeout on the beds of their motel room. Bucky watched Tony and Harley discussing how to add retro-reflective panels to Tony’s suit with a fond smile. 

“What do you have?” Elly asked, knee-walking across the mattress to peer into Bucky’s box of food.

“Uh, something with noodles,” Bucky replied, tipping the box towards her. He didn’t know what it was; Tony went to get the food while Bucky organised their room, and he’d handed over the box to Bucky without an explanation.

“Can I try some?” 

“Sure. It’s spicy,” Bucky warned.

Elly rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” she decided.

“Knock yourself out, kid.”

Elly stabbed a couple of noodles with her plastic fork, sucking them into her mouth and flicking sauce across her lips.

“That’s good,” she announced. “Do you want to try mine?”

“Alright. Thanks,” Bucky smiled, taking a forkful. He picked up a napkin from the pile in the middle of the bed, wiping the sauce from her face. When he turned back from tossing the napkin into the trash can, Tony was watching him with a proud smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Tony announced, unfolding his legs. “Can you make sure they get ready for bed?” he asked Bucky.

“We’re not babies,” Harley scowled. 

“Then why didn’t you eat your vegetables?” Tony retorted.

Harley stuck out his tongue at him.

“I ate my vegetables!” Elly piped up.

“Good girl.” Tony ruffled her hair on his way past, heading for the bathroom. 

“Alright, let’s clear this up, then bed,” Bucky said.

“I’m not tired, though,” Elly sighed dramatically, draping herself over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Me neither,” Harley agreed, jutting his chin out defiantly.

And just like that, Bucky was sitting on a rug on a hardwood floor, staring into his five year old son’s pout and biting back his laughter.

“I’m not tired,” Harley insisted. 

“You’re not?” Bucky heard himself say. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Harley nodded imperiously, folding his arms and looking down his nose at Bucky. Or attempting to, considering even sitting down, there was a good foot and a half between them. 

“You sure?” Bucky grinned, poking Harley in the side.

“Ye-yes,” Harley huffed, squirming away from Bucky’s hand.

“Totally sure?”

He tickled Harley’s side. 

“No! Dad! Stop it!” Harley laughed, curling up into a ball.

“Stop what? Stop what?”

“Da-ad!” Harley squealed, rolling across the floor to escape from Bucky.

Then he was back in their poorly lit motel room, with a thump from their neighbours upstairs. Elly was still slumped across his shoulder, and Harley was glaring at him. Bucky swallowed. 

“Come on, you,” he declared, scooping Elly up into his arms. She shrieked with laughter, her heels thumping against Bucky’s side as she kicked her feet in the air. He yanked back the covers on the other bed. “Bedtime,” Bucky finished, dropping Elly onto the bed and covering her with the blanket.

“Da-ad,” Elly laughed, causing Bucky’s heart to stutter. “I’ve still got my shoes on.”

“Really?” Bucky frowned. He lifted the covers to look at Elly’s feet. “Oh well,” he shrugged. 

Elly huffed. She rolled her eyes, and declared, “You’re very silly, dad.”

“I am?” Bucky blinked in surprise.

“Yes,” Elly nodded, unaware that Bucky was floundering. 

“Oh.” Bucky swallowed. “Well, I guess you better take off your shoes. Since you’re already in bed.” He turned to Harley, whose face instantly dropped into a glare again when he realised Bucky was watching. “You know I can pick you up too,” Bucky warned, “So unless you want that to happen, you better get ready for bed.”

“Whatever,” Harley grumbled.

But he climbed off of the bed, tugging off his sneakers and doing as Bucky said. 

“Good night,” Bucky said, brushing Elly’s hair back from her forehead.

“Night night,” she yawned.

“G’night, kid,” he told Harley.

Harley stared at him. Admitting defeat, Bucky turned away. But as he pulled off his own t-shirt, he heard a quiet, “Night,” from Harley.

Bucky stripped off, and climbed into bed, picking up his notebook. He ran his hand over the cover before opening it up. Glancing across to the kids’ bed, he watched them fall asleep, listening to their heart rates and breathing slow as they drifted off. Then he picked up his pen and began to write about Elly calling him dad for the first time. 

He heard the shower die in the bathroom; a few moments later, the bathroom door opened, steam spilling out into the room. Tony padded out into the room, and began rummaging in their bags for something. Bucky glanced up automatically before returning to his notebook - or, he intended to. But then he actually saw Tony and his brain stopped. 

Tony’s skin was still damp, shining in the lamplight, his hair sticking up all directions from the towel slung over his shoulder. Oh, and he was only wearing a pair of boxers. 

Bucky’s mouth turned to dust, his breath catching in his throat, and he was slapped with the memory that he was attracted to both women _and_ men.

And said attraction was suddenly awake and causing havoc with Bucky’s body. Especially when Tony bent over to dry off his legs, giving Bucky a perfect view of his ass. Bucky let out an involuntary whine, quickly attempting to cover it with a cough. 

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky lied.

Since when did Tony have biceps? They’d been sharing a room for the past few days, living in each other’s pockets out of necessity; how had he failed to notice Tony’s amazing biceps? And then there was the six pack. 

Bucky’s dick twitched, and he slammed his notebook down on top of his groin. 

Flicking open his notebook to a new page, he scribbled _ATTRACTED TO TONY_ , before scoring it out and changing it to _VERY ATTRACTED TO TONY_ and underlining it twice.

At which point, Tony started walking towards the bed, so Bucky slammed his notebook closed again. Tony raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine,” Bucky lied.

But Tony continued to stare at him. 

Were his eyes too wide? Did he look nervous? How did he usually breathe? And what do people do with their hands? He was the Winter Soldier, the world’s greatest assassin, whose reputation came from his ability to remain calm and cool in any situation.

So what was it about Tony Stark that blew all of that away and left him a quivering mess?

Tony pulled back the covers, climbing into bed with a groan, and a shiver ran down Bucky’s spine. He breathed out slowly through his nose, because his heart was going too fast. Wasn’t it? It felt like it was usually slower than this. Or should it be this fast? Was this normal? How did people ever get anything done with this kind of attraction messing up their minds?

“Good night,” Tony yawned.

“Good night,” Bucky echoed.

Did his voice always sound like that? Bucky was fairly sure his voice had never sounded like that before in his life. 

Tony didn’t seem to notice. He lay down with his back to Bucky, tugging the blankets up under his chin and sighing.

Bucky put his notebook aside, lying down himself, but he didn’t fall asleep. Couldn’t. Not with this newfound attraction to Tony rummaging around in his brain. Bucky stared up at the ceiling and thought about it. About being attracted to Tony.

What did people do when they were attracted to someone? He knew objectively, knew how to read a person’s emotions without them ever saying a word. They kissed. He imagined kissing Tony.

Heat spread through Bucky’s stomach. Yup, that was a good thought. Kissing Tony, being close to him, which Bucky already knew wasn’t a problem, after waking up with Tony in his personal space that morning. That was… also a good thought. Kissing Tony, being close, Tony’s hands on him—

And Bucky slammed the door on that train of thought, because he was not comfortable with the idea of getting an erection while in bed with Tony, with his kids asleep two feet away in the same room. Nope. Not happening. 

Bucky’s head lolled to the side, so he could watch Tony sleep. Or watch Tony’s back as he slept. And he smiled. Because this, this felt like reclaiming a part of himself all on his own. And maybe Tony wouldn’t be interested, maybe he didn’t even like men, but Bucky realised a little part of him would always love Tony for giving Bucky back this part of himself.

With that thought, Bucky rolled onto his stomach, which felt infinitely more comfortable than lying on his back, punched the pillow twice, and fell asleep.

* * *

_“Sergeant Barnes…”_

_The crunch of bone beneath his fist. An itch crawling up his neck, like he’s forgotten something. He pushes it away. Nothing can impede the Asset’s mission._

_He can not fail._

_He must not fail._

_“Howard… Howard…”_

_Something twinges in his gut, a moment of hesitation. Then his fingers contract, digging into soft flesh until he feels the spine sna-_

“Bucky! Bucky, wake up.”

His eyes snapped open. Bucky gasped, drawing air into his lungs with a rasp. His eyes darted around the room, settling on Tony who was perched on the edge of the bed, out of arm's reach, watching Bucky with concerned eyes. 

“Did I wake them?” Bucky asked, turning towards the kids’ bed.

“No,” Tony murmured. “You didn’t say anything, you were just thrashing. And you looked scared.”

Bucky stared into Tony’s face, and saw echoes of the two faces in his mind written across Tony’s features. Bile rose in his throat. He drew in a ragged breath.

“Tony,” he whispered.

“Hey. It’s okay,” Tony said, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

And that just made it worse, because Tony didn’t even hesitate to touch him.

“Did you remember something?”

It would be so easy to look away, to avoid Tony’s gaze, but Bucky refused to be a coward. He held Tony’s gaze steadily, however hard it may be.

“I killed your parents.”

Just like that, Tony’s face shuttered. It became an emotionless mask. Then he withdrew his hand. 

Bucky’s heart broke.

Huh. Interesting. He didn’t know it could do that.

“I…” Tony broke off and climbed out of bed.

Bucky’s eyes trailed after Tony, watching him reach for a pair of jeans and pull them on. His heart rose to his throat, pressing on his larynx, and tears stung his eyes. 

“Tony.”

Tony ignored him, pulling a jumper on over his head, leaving his hair sticking up in all directions. Bucky wanted to run his hands through it. Instead, he watched Tony shove his feet into his sneakers.

“I gotta get out of here,” Tony said, without looking at Bucky.

“Tony, wait.”

“I gotta go,” Tony muttered, opening the door. He hesitated in the doorway, twitching like he wanted to turn back and say something. Then his shoulders dropped and he walked out the door.

And Bucky’s heart broke for a second time. 

No one escaped Hydra without a fight.

* * *

Bucky sat and stared at the door for a long time. Maybe if he stared hard enough, Tony would come walking back in through the door. 

No luck.

Eventually the feeling of a weight pushing on his chest became too much to bear. Bucky grabbed his notebook, flicking through it until he came to a new page and wrote _Murderer_. He wrote it again and again until he’d filled three pages with it, to the point it was barely legible. It didn’t ease the pressure in his chest though.

Bucky climbed out of bed, pausing to glance at Harley and Elly, checking their heart rates and breathing to ensure they were still asleep. He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Then he turned on the tap and began washing his hands. He felt dirty. 

Except no matter how much he scrubbed his hands, he didn’t feel clean. So he turned on the shower, stripping off and climbing in. He rubbed his skin until it was red and raw, but still he didn’t feel clean. If he closed his eyes, he could see the blood dripping from his skin.

A gasp tore itself from his throat.

Bucky pressed his forehead against the chipped tile.

“What did you do to me?” he choked. 

In the other room, Bucky could hear Harley stir. Before long, both kids would be awake and asking where Tony was. Bucky had no idea what to tell them. Part of him considered staying here, in the shower, locked away from them, even as he knew it wasn’t really an option. 

He still didn’t feel clean, but Bucky turned off the shower, picked up a towel, and stepped out. He dried off, pulled on his clothes again, then gathered his courage and left the bathroom to face his children.

“Where’s Tony?” Harley asked.

“He went out,” Bucky replied. 

Which was true. He wasn’t lying.

“Where?” Harley frowned.

“I don’t know. I don’t have a tracker on him,” Bucky muttered.

And then Harley asked, “Is he coming back?” with that dangerously perceptive expression on his face, and Bucky almost crumbled.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What did you do?” Harley demanded, jumping out of bed and advancing on Bucky. Behind him, Elly stirred, no doubt roused by the raised voices. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” Bucky snapped. He stopped, forcing himself to remain calm. Harley was scared and angry, he was lashing out. This wasn’t Bucky’s fault, no matter how much the voice in his head said otherwise. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He wouldn’t leave us!” Harley retorted, “So you must’ve done something!”

“I… Harley-”

“No! Tony wouldn’t leave, that’s what you do,” Harley spat. 

He glared at Bucky, his chin raised defiantly, tears filling his eyes as his lip wobbled. Bucky suddenly remembered Harley wearing the exact same expression after tearfully insisting it wasn’t his fault the classroom window was broken, despite what his so-called friends said.

It took two whole steps for Bucky to reach his son, pulling him into his arms and ignoring Harley’s attempts to get away.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky choked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t wanna go, but I didn’t have a choice. I’m sorry.”

“I hate you,” Harley replied, his voice muffled by Bucky’s shirt, but he’d stopped trying to pull away.

“I know,” Bucky whispered. 

Harley’s, “He has to come back,” was barely audible to anyone with normal hearing, but Bucky heard it as clear as day and tightened his hold on Harley. 

Silently, he pleaded, _Please don’t take Tony from them too_. 

* * *

They stayed in the motel room all day, waiting for Tony to come back. As much as Bucky hated inaction, the fear of leaving Tony behind was too strong to convince him to move on. If it had been just him, it would’ve been different. But Elly and Harley had already been torn away from their lives and home, and they’d found comfort in Tony. He couldn’t give up on him yet.

Bucky left them just long enough to extend their stay for another night, and to stock up on enough food for four people. If Tony didn’t come back, they could use it the next day, Bucky reasoned, even as his heart ached at the thought.

Tony had to come back. He had to.

Because Bucky didn’t know what he was going to do without him.

Harley was sulking, a glowering angry bundle in the corner, snapping whenever anyone spoke to him in an attempt to disguise his fear that Tony won’t come back. And Elly looked lost. 

And Bucky didn’t know what to do about it. 

He stared at his children with a lump in his throat. All he wanted was to be able to take their pain away and make it better. Hell, he would even take their pain upon himself, if it meant they didn’t have to hurt any longer. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, sitting next to Elly, bumping her with his shoulder. “You wanna play a game?”

“What kind of game?”

“Uh… D’you know how to play checkers?”

She shook her head.

“Alright, gimme a minute,” Bucky said. 

Grabbing his notebook, Bucky pulled out a couple of pages. On the first, he carefully drew out a grid of sixty four squares, shading in every second square. Then, taking the second sheet he tore it into twenty four circles, colouring in half of them. Finally, he picked up his creations, carrying them over to Elly and setting up the board and the pieces. 

“Black or white?” he asked.

“White,” Elly decided.

Bucky glanced towards Harley; he was watching them out of the corner of his eye. 

“You wanna play?” Bucky asked.

Harley huffed, turning away.

“Okay,” Bucky said, trying not to be hurt. “We take it in turns to move. You can only move forward, and only diagonally, and only on the black squares. Now, if our pieces are… like this,” he continued, moving two pieces, until they were on adjoining squares, “You can jump my piece and capture it. You understand?”

“I think I got it,” Elly nodded. 

“Alright. There’s more to it later on, but we’ll get to that. You go first.”

Elly was a quick study, picking up the game within a few minutes until soon, she was kicking Bucky’s ass. Despite everything, a small smile found its way onto his face, and some of the fear in his chest disappeared when he noticed Harley watching, no longer attempting to pretend otherwise.

“I win!” Elly cried at the end of the game. “Yes!” she laughed, punching the air with both fists and falling backwards onto the bed. 

Bucky chuckled. He poked her in the side, watching her squirm away from him. 

“Set it up again,” he instructed her, “If you wanna play again.” Glancing at Harley, he asked, “D’you wanna try and beat her?”

For a second, he thought Harley would refuse. But then he rolled across the bed, taking Bucky’s place across the board from Elly.

“You’re going down,” Harley declared.

“Nuh uh,” Elly retorted.

Bucky shifted to the other bed, sitting back to watch them play, when he was struck with the urge to capture the scene. He picked up his notebook, opening to a new page, and began to draw. Bucky quickly realised art was not his forte, but he was good enough to create an image of the kids as they played, momentarily forgetting their fears.

A voice laughed in Bucky’s ear, making fun of his attempts at drawing. He couldn’t remember the words, but Bucky found himself whispering, “We can’t all be artists like you, punk.”

Darkness fell, and still no sign of Tony.

Bucky made the kids eat and shower, before tucking them into bed. Then he was alone, with only his thoughts and the sounds of his children sleeping for company. 

They couldn’t stay here, not for another day. So far they’d managed to avoid Hydra, but if they lingered for too long in one place, people would begin to notice them. A fact Tony would know too. 

If he hadn’t returned by the morning, they would leave without him. 

Bucky stepped into the bathroom to clean his teeth, because Tony told him to, and even though he wasn’t here, Bucky still wanted to listen to Tony. The toothpaste still tasted wrong, but it made his mouth feel clean, and the cleanliness was more important than the taste. His skin still itched, like he needed to scrub it until there was no skin left to feel unclean. Bucky clenched the edge of the chipped porcelain sink until there were ten new grooves in it, but he resisted the urge to strip off and climb into the shower again. 

Bucky sighed. 

He splashed his face with water, then left the bathroom.

Which was when he heard it: the first knock.

Bucky had his gun in hand and pointed at the door in less than two seconds.

But then the second knock came. And another. And another, until he recognised it as their signal.

_Malibu_.

The safe word.

Bucky crossed to the door, opening the door on the chain, keeping the gun pointed at the gap.

It was Tony.

He looked tired and worn, his chin covered in a day’s stubble, and he was still avoiding Bucky’s eyes. But he was here. 

“Can I come in?” Tony muttered.

Bucky nodded, closing the door again wordlessly to remove the chain, before opening the door fully to allow Tony to step inside. He watched Tony cross the room and pull off his jacket.

“Tony-”

“Don’t,” Tony interrupted. “Look, I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t want to do it. But it’s really hard for me to look at you right now. So can we please just go to sleep then get out of here tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,” Bucky nodded. But he couldn’t stay silent; as Tony headed towards the bathroom, he called, “Tony?”

Tony paused, without turning around.

“Thanks for coming back,” Bucky said.

Tony nodded sharply, then disappeared into the bathroom. 

Bucky exhaled slowly. He checked the locks, before tucking the blankets more securely around Elly. On impulse, he dropped a kiss against her temple, brushing Harley’s hair back off of his forehead, then climbed into bed and lay down.

He lay awake until Tony re-emerged from the bathroom, holding his breath, waiting for Tony’s already familiar weight to pull down the far side of the mattress. Only then did he close his eyes and allow himself to fall asleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony pulled off his glasses, rubbing the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. For the first time, he looked tired, Steve noted. 

“You wanna take a break?” he offered.

“No,” Tony replied. “I wanna get this done so I can take my family and get the fuck out of here.”

His voice shook a little. Neither Tony nor Steve mentioned it.

* * *

Tony didn’t know what caused him to wake when he first opened his eyes. Then he felt the mattress wobble as Bucky thrashed and jerked behind him. Tony rolled over, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out Bucky’s features. When his vision focused, he saw Bucky’s expression of fear and his heart went out to him once more.

“Fucking Hydra,” Tony whispered. Swallowing his frustration for another time - preferably while watching Steve wail on Pierce and his cronies and proceeding to beat the ever-loving shit out of Hydra for everything they’d done to Bucky Barnes over the last seventy years - he murmured, “Bucky. Bucky, wake up.”

Bucky jerked, his arms flying out as though trying to push someone away, and Tony swallowed. He sat up, shifting to the edge of the bed, where Bucky couldn’t accidentally hit him and feel even worse than he already did.

“Bucky,” he tried again, mindful of the two children asleep on the other side of the room. “Come on, Bucky, wake up.

“Bucky. Bucky! Bucky, wake up.”

Bucky’s eyes flew open. He gasped for air, the sound harsh in the still of the night. His eyes darted around the room before settling on Tony. It seemed like some of the fear fell away when Bucky looked at him, which probably shouldn’t make Tony feel as good as it did. 

“Did I wake them?” Bucky asked, glancing towards Harley and Elly.

“No,” Tony murmured. His fingers itched to reach out and touch Bucky, to provide comfort. Touch had always been Tony’s favourite form of comfort, but he knew that for Bucky, who’d had his agency stripped away and his rights to his body torn from him, the same might not apply. “You didn’t say anything. You were just thrashing. And you looked scared.”

When Bucky turned back to look at Tony again, he no longer looked comforted by Tony’s presence. Instead he looked sick. 

It stung.

“Tony.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony assured him, pushing down his own feelings because he wasn’t the one waking from what was probably a flashback-inspired nightmare of epic proportions. He reached out and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder, unable to resist any longer. “Did you remember something?”

Bucky’s eyes were filled with pain and Tony was overcome with the vain urge to take it and throw it away, hide it somewhere where it could never hurt him again. Because he might not know everything Bucky’d gone through, but Tony knew without a doubt that Bucky did not deserve-

“I killed your parents.”

Wait, what?

Tony stared at Bucky - _oh God, please no, please_ \- then pulled his hand away. Distress flittered across Bucky’s features, his eyes watching Tony’s hand as it withdrew. It felt like he wasn’t getting enough air, his head felt heavy and there was a buzzing in his ears and Tony had to look away from Bucky because if he didn’t- 

“I…”

He didn’t know what he’d do.

Tony slipped out of bed, although he wasn’t sure when he’d decided to move. Maybe it was somewhere around the time his hand curled into a fist and he felt the urge to smash it into Bucky’s face because-

“I gotta get out of here.”

His hands were shaking, he observed as he buckled the belt on his jeans. No. Not his jeans. These were not his jeans. These were Target jeans taken from a donation bin somewhere along the road between Tennessee and Denver.

“Tony, wait.”

Tony fought to suppress the flinch Bucky’s voice elicited, a lump growing in his throat and pressing painfully on his vocal cords. He gave up trying to tie the laces on his sneakers and just shoved the laces under his feet. 

“I gotta go,” he repeated and it felt like the lump in his throat was choking him. 

He opened the door then stopped. _I’m coming back_ , he thought. He should say that. He should tell Bucky that he wasn’t going to abandon him, that he couldn’t do that to the kids. But then he heard Bucky’s voice in his mind once more.

_“I killed your parents.”_

And he realised he couldn’t make that promise. 

His vision blurred and his heart ached at the thought of breaking his promise to Harley and Elly, but he could feel Bucky’s eyes on him.

So he closed the door and walked away before his tears could overwhelm him. 

* * *

He walked until he couldn’t walk any more, until the tears which had begun to threaten as he left the motel spilled over, running down his face as he let out a ragged gasp. With a sob, Tony leaned forward, pressing his fists against his knees.

“No… No, you bastards, why did you do this?” he hissed. His voice sounded harsh and wrong even to his own ears. “Fuck you. Fuck you!” he roared.

“Fuck you too,” a stranger’s voice called from somewhere out of sight.

Tony stared into the distance, his chest heaving. 

_“I killed your parents.”_

He let out another sob, pressing his knuckles to his lips until it hurt. His nails pinched his palms as he clenched his fists. 

Twenty two years he’d been blaming Howard for killing his mom. Now it turned out, he’d been blaming him for the wrong thing. It wasn’t Howard’s drinking or his driving that killed her. 

It was his work with SHIELD. 

The anger burned in his veins. Tony could feel it building and building like pressure in a steam valve, growing and growing with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape until it had to go somewhere, it had to explode.

With a scream, Tony slammed his fist into the wall. The impact ran up his arms into his shoulder. Tony did it again. And again. And again and again and again, using both fists now, and kicking and screaming until he stopped screaming and started sobbing.

He fell still, letting his head fall back as he cried and cried.

He cried for his mother, an innocent victim of Howard’s pride, a mere pawn in Hydra’s power play. 

He cried for Bucky, taken and forced to commit atrocities in the name of a cause he didn’t even believe in, shattered and broken and forced to take the blame.

And then he cried for himself, for starting to care about Bucky, for wanting to help but also wanting to kill him, and for the twenty one year old, the child, who had to bury his parents all because Hydra decreed they had to die.

He stumbled forward, pressing his forehead against the rough brick of the wall, rolling it back and forth as he cried until he had no tears left. But even then, Tony didn’t move. He didn’t move because he couldn’t move. Because if he moved, he would have to decide what to do next and honestly? He had no idea where to go from here.

Drawing a shaky breath, he glanced to the side at the sound of a horn and frowned.

A few blocks away, illuminated by the glow of floodlights, was a bus station.

Tony stared.

He pulled out his wallet, flicking through the cash he had left, then turned back to the bus station. Pressing his lips together, Tony wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater. 

Then he walked into the bus station without looking back.

* * *

The sky was grey and overcast when Tony stepped off of the bus ten hours later. He glanced around Albuquerque Bus Station and set off, evading the CCTV cameras and making use of the ball cap he’d found abandoned on the bus when it was impossible to avoid them. He waited in the line at the information desk, keeping his head low and trying not to look as nervous as he felt being stationary so long.

“Good afternoon!” the woman behind the glass chirped when he reached the front of the line. “How can I help you today?”

“Uh, library,” Tony replied. “I’m looking for the nearest library.”

“Of course, sir.”

She rattled off the directions; Tony nodded, flashing her a brief smile in thanks, and walked away. On his way to the library, he found a clothes store, buying the first unobtrusive shirt and hoodie he found, before resuming his journey.

Tony would’ve preferred the computers at the library to be hidden away in a corner where no one would pay too much attention to him, but instead they sat smack bang in the middle of the room with a clear line of sight from the door. Tony pursed his lips. Upside, he would see instantly if someone came in looking for him; downside, they would also see his every movement.

He sighed.

Nothing else for it: he sat down at the computer furthest from anyone else, and let his fingers dance over the keys, feeling something in him settle with the computer in front of him even if it was a shitty Windows device, running an out of date version of XP. 

“Hello dear,” Tony muttered. “I promise this won’t hurt a bit.”

His fingers hovered over the keys then Tony typed _howling commandos_ into the search bar on Google Images and hit search before he could change his mind. 

The images loaded and Tony clenched his jaw to avoid flinching when he saw Bucky’s face in them. Steeling himself, he clicked on the first image, a blurry handcoloured image of the Howling Commandos looking at the camera, all serious bar one. The demolitions expert, Tony’s mind supplied, even as he stared at Bucky, second from the left.

His hair was short, but other than that there were very few differences between him and the man Tony left in Denver. 

The next photo showed the Commandos again, each with a gun and looking pretty pissed off as they stared at whoever was behind the camera. Was this… Yes, this was taken after Steve rescued them all from Hydra, Tony realised. He zoomed in on Bucky’s face and saw the dark shadows under his eyes and the dried blood on his temple. 

Tony lingered over the third photo for a long time, longer than he should’ve probably. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky’s face. Because in this one, he was - finally - smiling at the camera around the cigarette clamped between his teeth. Tony found himself smiling too, just a little, despite the ache in his chest which seemed to grow the longer he looked at it. 

Tony glanced up, watching a newcomer as she passed, glancing over his shoulder to watch her until he was satisfied she’d disappeared into the shelves, while clicking on the next picture without looking at the screen. When he turned back to his computer, Tony started and promptly forgot how to breathe. 

Because there, in all his black and white glory, was James Buchanan Barnes in his dress uniform throwing a cocky grin and the camera and Tony knew, he _knew_ this was before Hydra ever managed to get their grubby little hands on him. The air of confidence, the set of his shoulders, the twinkle in his eye; all of it was missing from the later pictures and from the Bucky he knew.

_“I killed your parents.”_

“No, you didn’t,” Tony whispered, even as his mind screamed at him that _it was all Bucky’s fault, how could he say that, Bucky was a murderer, he was dangerous and-_

Tony shook his head, blinking away the moisture from his eyes.

It might take him some time to deal with it, but Tony knew that the Winter Soldier’s first victim was James Buchanan Barnes.

Tony printed out the four pictures, along with several of Steve and pre-war Brooklyn, collecting them from the printer with a cautious glance around the room. Then, retaking his seat, he took a deep breath and glanced at the clock. 

He had time. 

Returning to Google, he typed in _amnesia recovery_ , slouching in his chair as he hit search. He read about the difference between retrograde and anterograde amnesia, feeling his heart sink when he scrolled through the different treatments and almost all of them involved seeing doctors or therapists or both, neither of which he could provide for Bucky while on the run. Tony longed to be able to fix everything - he was a mechanic, he fixed things, it was what he did - and the realisation that he couldn’t fix this almost hurt worse than Bucky’s revelation the night before.

_“I killed your parents.”_

Tony shuddered. 

He noted down the nutrition advice, opening a second window to google what, exactly, an anti-inflammatory diet was, making a note of the author’s suggestion to eat more protein and Omega 3 rich foods such as tuna and sockeye salmon. Having a goal helped; the information drowned out the voice in his head, reminding him exactly what Bucky had done.

_“I killed your parents.”_

“No, you didn’t,” Tony whispered, clicking on a report about post-traumatic amnesia.

He started to read, scrolling through the account of the author’s wife’s own recovery from post-traumatic amnesia, then froze, his eyes fixed on a single sentence. 

_In general, post-traumatic amnesia lasts three to four times longer than the preceding coma._

Tony stared in horror. In the account, the woman in question’s amnesia lasted for ten weeks after her two week coma. But Tony’s eyes kept drifting back to that single sentence.

_In general, post-traumatic amnesia lasts three to four times longer than the preceding coma._

Because how on earth was that going to translate to seventy years of being put in and out of cryogenisis and multiple memory wipes?

_“I killed your parents.”_

“So?” Tony muttered. He shook his head. “No one deserves that. No one deserves this.”

He pressed his fist to his lips and tried to swallow the lump in his throat, forcing himself to keep reading. When it became clear he couldn’t take anymore information in, Tony admitted defeat, printing off the article along with the list of treatments and the anti-inflammatory diet sheet before returning to the computer for the last time.

Even before he sat down, his stomach began to churn as his nerves sprung into life. He had one more thing to do. He stared at the clock, aware that the moment he began, the timer would start and he would have to move quickly.

Exhaling slowly, he opened the DOD secure login page.

Username: WarMachine68

Password:

Tony stared at the cursor as it blinked at him. He’d written an algorithm once, because Rhodey insisted on changing his password every time Tony hacked in - really, he should just accept that Tony was always going to hack in and stop worrying - to work out the most likely options for Rhodey’s future passwords and then memorised them all. Running through his mental list, Tony tapped his fingers against the desk.

This wasn’t like a regular email account. There was no three tries and you’re out. He had one chance to guess correctly.

“Come on, buddy,” Tony murmured, leaning over the keys. “Please don’t let me down.”

Password: IamWARMACHINEBABY

Tony snorted when the email loaded instantly.

“Oh, Rhodey,” he whispered. “I love you, man.”

He opened up the email account, feeling every second ticking down on the clock, knowing that somewhere in Washington, an alert had already been raised on Colonel James Rhodes' account due to unexpected activity. Opening a new email, Tony typed capsteverogers@starkindustries.com into the address bar, skipped the subject line and went straight to the body of the message.

_Cap,_

_Bumped into some old friends of yours. They’re everywhere. Seemed excited to work with you._

_T_

He hit send and signed out, on his feet and out of the library door before the computer could finish logging off. He hurried down the street, his heart pounding in his ears as he returned to the bus station. To his relief, the line at the ticket desk was short. 

“Hi, what’s the quickest way to get to Mexico?”

Ticket in hand, he ducked into the restroom, changing into the new shirt he’d bought, before zipping up his hoodie and flicking up the hood, pulling it low over his face. He left the old clothes in the restroom and kept his head low as he walked out of the terminal and onto the bus back to Denver.

* * *

“Can I come in?” Tony muttered.

Seeing Bucky in person again for the first time since the revelation about his parents hurt more than Tony thought it would. All the anger and hurt he thought he’d dealt with on the bus ride back north came back with full force. Maybe… Maybe it would take longer than a day to deal with those feelings, Tony grudgingly admitted to himself. 

Bucky nodded, momentarily closing the door before opening it fully. Tony slunk past him, pulling off his jacket and tossing it aside. 

“Tony-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “Look, I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you didn’t want to do it. But it’s really hard for me to look at you right now. So can we please go to sleep then get out of here tomorrow morning?” 

Honestly, part of him was surprised Bucky and the kids were still here, the kids asleep in the bed just as they were when he left. Staying in one place for so long must’ve made Bucky jumpy, Tony knew, so he supposed he should feel grateful they’d stuck around long enough for Tony to return. But it was hard to feel anything other than the burning anger and resentment which whispered _He’s the reason your mom is dead_ in his ear.

“Sure,” Bucky replied. “Tony?”

He paused, without turning.

“Thanks for coming back.” 

Tony pressed his lips together to stop them from trembling and swallowed around the lump in his throat. He nodded, then continued into the bathroom. 

Bucky was in bed when Tony returned. He decided not to look at Bucky’s sleeping form, pausing to check Harley and Elly and adjusting the blanket so it was covering Elly’s feet properly, then climbed into bed.

Tony slept fitfully, his dreams haunted by the faces of his parents, both alive and dead. Because at twenty one years old, he was the one who identified their bodies. He could still remember staring down into his father’s face, wiped clean but still with traces of dried blood. He’d always thought it was due to Howard’s face hitting the wheel when he crashed as a result of his drinking. 

Now he wasn’t so sure.

And then his mother, lying so still, like she was sleeping if not for the unnatural paleness of her skin.

That was the night Tony’s college drinking turned into alcoholism. 

He kept his back to Bucky, even when his shoulder started aching. In the darkness, the voice in his ear returned, whispering _Why did you come back? What are you doing here? He’s a murderer._

 _Shut up_ , Tony thought. 

He came back because he had to, and not only for the children asleep on the other side of the room. He came back for Bucky, because in his heart, he knew Bucky wouldn’t want to kill anyone unless he absolutely had to. Tony did the research; when Bucky managed to escape Hydra, he made a family, raised children, and was known for his love of science. 

He never harmed anyone. 

Still, it was hard to look your mother’s killer in the eye less than a day after discovering he was responsible for her death, however unwillingly. 

He managed to drift off into a doze around two thirty, waking every time Bucky or one of the kids sniffed or sneezed or shifted in bed, before abandoning all attempts to sleep at five thirty.

He slipped out of bed, locking himself in the bathroom to shower and shave. He stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long time, wondering what the hell he was doing. A few days ago, he was an Avenger. Now, he was on the run from Hydra with a former assassin and two children, heading for the Canadian border. 

Slipping out of the bathroom, Tony glanced around the room, illuminated by the dawn light sneaking through the pitiful curtains, and found a pair of eyes watching him.

“You came back,” Harley whispered.

“Of course,” Tony replied, keeping his voice low to avoid waking Elly and Bucky. Even though he knew Bucky would probably hear them no matter what. Perching on the edge of the bed, he smoothed down Harley’s unruly curls. “I’ll always come back,” he promised.

“Yeah?”

Tony stuck out his pinkie. “Yeah,” he smiled. 

Harley rolled his eyes, but he still linked his pinkie with Tony’s, sealing the promise. 

“I thought…” Harley trailed off.

“What?” 

“I thought you left. I thought… he did something,” Harley said slowly, glancing towards Bucky. “Something that made you leave.”

Tony followed Harley’s gaze, allowing himself to actually look at Bucky for the first time since before he left the day before. It brought a lump to his throat, because it hurt to look at Bucky, and Tony felt like they’d been on their way to becoming friends before Bucky remembered killing Tony’s parents. 

“He didn’t do anything,” Tony assured Harley. “He’s not a bad man, your dad. He’s just… had bad things done to him.”

“D’you think _he’ll_ leave?” Harley whispered.

“No,” Tony replied with conviction. “He’s not going anywhere. Neither of us are.”

Harley appeared reassured.

“Go shower,” Tony told him. “We’re going to leave early.”

“Okay,” Harley nodded. He climbed out of bed, padding towards the bathroom.

Tony waited until he heard the door click shut, then said, “I know you’re awake,” as he moved to finish getting dressed. Behind him, he heard Bucky stir, abandoning the pretence of sleep. But Tony couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t. 

Even if he wanted to. 

He heard Bucky wake Elly, murmuring quietly to her, and before he would’ve watched with pride as Bucky reconnected with his daughter, but now he could barely stand to hear it, never mind watch. A lump lodged itself in his throat, tears blurring his vision. Tony clenched his fist.

He wanted to _destroy_ Hydra for ruining this for him.

Once the kids were showered and dressed, they loaded them into the car. Tony took the driver’s seat, because he needed to do something, and since tearing Hydra and Alexander Pierce limb from limb wasn’t an option, this would have to do. Bucky didn’t argue, didn’t say a word; he just handed over the keys and climbed into the passenger seat. Which just made Tony angrier, because it would be so much easier if his rage was justified, if Bucky fought back, giving him a _reason_ to be angry and yell and get some of this frustration out of his system so he could move on already. 

But Bucky said nothing. 

Did nothing.

And it was infuriating.

Tony stabbed at the radio, flicking through the preprogrammed stations, until he managed to find a local rock radio station, turning up the volume and letting the music just wash over him.

* * *

Two days.

Two days of Tony barely looking at him and only speaking when he had to. 

Bucky wondered if this was what going mad felt like. Then he remembered he was already mad. 

When Tony drove, he turned up the volume on the radio or engaged the children in games such as I Spy to avoid talking to Bucky. Yesterday afternoon, Bucky was hit by the memory of his sisters playing the game, which was also the first time he remembered having sisters. 

When Bucky was driving, Tony hunkered down in the passenger seat and pretended to sleep. Bucky knew he wasn’t asleep, and Tony probably knew that Bucky knew he wasn’t asleep, but neither of them called each other out on it. 

Tony pulled sharply into the parking lot of a fast food restaurant, pulling Bucky from his thoughts. Bucky eyed the yellow arches on the sign suspiciously, the smell of grease and salt wafting through the air from the drive-through service hatch and into the car. 

“Shit,” Tony muttered.

Bucky followed his gaze, spotting the sign proclaiming _Drive-Through Closed_. He could see the indecision on Tony’s face. As much as possible, they’d tried to use drive-through windows, to avoid entering restaurants and having their faces immortalised on the CCTV footage where Hydra or anyone could spot them and recognise them.

“I’ll go,” Bucky said, preempting Tony’s suggestion of finding somewhere else. The kids were hungry, they’d start to complain if they had to wait for food, and who knew how long they would have to search for another restaurant. Bucky could take the risk; he knew how to avoid cameras better than any of them.

“Fine,” Tony muttered, pulling into the parking spot furthest from the door. “I’ll have a cheeseburger. What do you guys want?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder to Harley and Elly.

“I want a cheeseburger too,” Harley declared.

“Good choice, kid. Little Miss? What do you want?”

“Nuggets,” Elly replied. “With the toy.”

“Oh, of course,” Tony grinned. His grin fell and he stared straight ahead as he added, “You got that?”

Bucky nodded.

“I need to pee,” Harley announced, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Bucky glanced at Tony but Tony was still staring studiously ahead and not looking at him. Bucky sighed internally and figured it was time to start acting like a father even if he didn’t feel like one.

“Alright, come on,” he nodded.

Maybe getting food could be the start of father-son bonding.

Bucky scoffed internally, using his metal hand to hold the door open for Harley. That reasoning sounded flimsy even to his messed up brain. 

Harley disappeared towards the brightly painted restroom doors while Bucky joined the line. He recited the orders in his head, while scanning the backlit menus and trying to figure out what he should eat. 

Bucky had no idea what foods he liked or what was good. He’d tried asking Tony to pick for him, and in the beginning it worked, but for the past two days it definitely had not been working. Every time he asked Tony to pick, Tony’s face took on this pinched expression and guilt pooled in Bucky’s stomach. But Tony also got mad if Bucky didn’t eat, which left Bucky feeling like he couldn’t win. Whatever he did, it was wrong, and he hated feeling like he was wrong. It hurt, and he just wanted to be normal, why couldn’t he be normal already?

“Sir? Sir?” The voice cut through Bucky’s spiralling thoughts and he realised the woman at the counter was staring at him like he was weird, because the previous customer was gone and he hadn’t moved forward. 

“Sorry,” Bucky muttered. He rattled off Tony and the kids’ orders, hesitated to glance up at the menu once more, before remembering the last time they were in a place like this, Tony ordered him the fish. “And a Filet-O-Fish,” he added. “Thanks.”

“Sit in or take away?”

“Take away.”

Harley reappeared at his side as Bucky handed over the cash, sidling up to him and studying Bucky carefully. Bucky glanced down at him. “What’s up?” 

“You should go,” Harley replied casually.

“What? Why?” Bucky glanced around, wondering if somehow Harley had noticed something or someone Bucky had missed. But there was nothing; just families eating their meals, exasperated parents exhausted by their over-excited kids.

“Because that’s what you do.”

“Harley, not now,” Bucky muttered. 

“Why?” Harley taunted, raising his voice, injecting a cocky tone which niggled at Bucky’s brain as familiar although he didn’t know why, because of course he didn’t, he didn’t know anything. 

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. “Harley, come on. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I hate you!” Harley yelled and Bucky flinched. 

“Harley, come on, please.”

“None of us want you here,” Harley continued. “You made Tony so mad he left. Only he came back because he’s not you! He’s good, not all weird and shady like you. I don’t want somebody freaky like you around my sister so why don’t you just leave?” Harley snatched the bag from Bucky’s hands. “It’s what you’re good at,” he snapped before walking out of the restaurant.

Bucky could feel every eye in the room on him. He swallowed, pressing the foot of his palm to his forehead as his heart tried to leap out of his chest. There was a knot in his throat, pressing on his vocal cords and it hurt, it _hurt_ , and he couldn’t breathe. Muttering, “Sorry,” Bucky hurried out of the restaurant.

He glanced towards the car then walked away, disappearing through the bushes at the edge of the parking lot and dropping his hands to his knees and letting his head hang down and gasped for breath. Each breath sounded harsh even to his own ears and Bucky choked on a sob. The fear and the anger and the confusion and the frustration and the rage and the hurt built and built and he needed to do something, needed someway to get it out, or he felt like he might explode-

Drawing back his arm, Bucky slammed it into a tree trunk.

Panting, he stared at the fist-shaped hole in the trunk until he couldn’t look at it anymore. He glanced down at his hands; the flesh hand was trembling but the metal one remained steady.

Of course it did.

Bucky hated it.

Wiping the moisture from beneath his eyes, Bucky retraced his steps. As he approached the car, he saw that Tony had shifted to the passenger seat. Without a word, Bucky climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled his seatbelt. Tony held out a paper-wrapped sandwich; Bucky took it wordlessly, tearing open the paper and biting the Filet-O-Fish viciously before throwing the car into reverse. As he reversed out of the parking space, Bucky caught sight of Harley’s eyes watching him in the rearview mirror and had to swallow the bile forcing its way up his throat. 

The air was thick with tension as Bucky turned the car onto the road again, and a little voice in the back of his head couldn’t help but wonder if Harley was right.

* * *

Outside the car the flat, green landscape rushed by, stretching out for miles as far as the eye could see - and Bucky’s eyes could see pretty damn far. It was idyllic, lulling Bucky into a false sense of security. They drove past a white-washed farmhouse and something niggled at his brain.

Inside the car was silent. Tony fell asleep almost as soon as his cheeseburger was done - for real this time, not faking. A few miles later, Harley followed suit, his head lolling against the window and a sliver of drool hanging from his lower lip. Bucky glanced at them both before taking the final bite of his sandwich.

He frowned, glancing at the scenery. 

There was… something. Something familiar. 

He pulled the car over, throwing it into park before climbing out and walking a few feet away. His frown deepened as the scents of cut grass and farm animals tickled his nose and nudged at his memories, searching for something… Something.

“Dad?”

Bucky turned to find Elly climbing out of the car. 

“Careful,” he called. The road was quiet but he eyed the occasional car flying past with suspicion. 

Elly clambered over the grass verge to his side, looking up at him curiously, her forehead scrunching adorably. “What are you doing?”

“I… I think I was born here,” he frowned, glancing around.

“Here?” Elly echoed. She eyed him dubiously. “It’s the middle of a field.”

“Not right here,” Bucky chuckled, delighting in the literal interpretation from his daughter. “In Indiana.”

“I thought you were from New York?”

“I thought so too.” At least, that was what the internet said. “Maybe not.”

He shook himself, wondering if Tony could help clear things up for him, before remembering that Tony wasn’t talking to him, not really. Bucky swallowed the taste of guilt before it could overwhelm him again and forced it from his mind. 

“Come on, you,” he declared, grabbing Elly by the waist and swinging her into the air, grinning as she squealed in delight. He laughed, spinning in a circle, letting Elly’s laughter wash over him and warm him from inside out. “Alright, let’s get going,” he said, putting her back on the ground. 

“Okay,” she grinned, leaning into his side.

Bucky ran his hand through her hair, ruffling it slightly and chuckling when she pouted at him. Elly nudged him with her shoulder so Bucky bumped her with his hip, grinning at the glower of mock-offence she leveled at him, and then swung his foot up to bump her on the thigh.

Elly sighed, a long-suffering sound of exasperation, then hopped back into the backseat of the car. Bucky smiled, returning to the driver’s seat. He clicked his seatbelt into place, glanced in the mirrors then pulled back onto the road.

Only a few miles later, he began to realise something was very wrong.

The road was quiet. They avoided highways and any major roads in the hope of avoiding as many cameras as possible - it was impossible to avoid them all, which was why Bucky switched their car every night - so there was never much traffic. Usually, they found themselves behind another car or a van turned out of a sideroad behind them, passing the odd car going in the other direction maybe, but they largely had the roads to themselves. 

Bucky glanced in the rearview mirror periodically but this time something caught his attention. He frowned. There was a car behind them: dark, unmarked, with blacked out windows, and racing up behind them.

“Shit,” he muttered, pressing on the accelerator. 

“Dad?” Elly asked.

“It’s fine. We’re fine,” Bucky lied, fishing for the gun in his waistband.

“That doesn’t say things are fine,” she pointed out, eyeing the gun in his hand.

“Okay, we’re not fine,” Bucky admitted. The car was getting closer, and as they went around a bend, Bucky noticed the two motorbikes, riders all in black, behind it. “Fuck!”

Harley and Tony jerked awake, blinking blearily with matching expressions of sleepy confusion which Bucky didn’t have the time to appreciate. 

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, spotting the gun.

“I think they found us.”

Tony leaned through the gap between their seats, hanging on as Bucky pressed harder on the accelerator. “Yeah, that does not look good.” 

For a second - and only second, because they couldn’t spare any longer - Bucky and Tony’s eyes locked and a look of agreement passed between them.

“Hang on,” Bucky ordered quietly.

Tony nodded, grasping the grab handle with one hand and pulling out his own gun with the other. “Get down,” he told the kids. 

Bucky exhaled slowly, forcing the fear to the back of his mind and letting the cool focus of the Soldier come to the forefront. He couldn’t afford to be emotional right now, not if he wanted to protect his children. His limbs went loose, his senses heightening, and behind them the motorbikes shot past the car pursuing them.

Bucky floored the accelerator. 

The car shot forward, as much as its fifteen year old engine would allow, and Bucky found himself thinking wistfully of a bike in a snowy forest. The bikes roared behind them, one coming up on either side, and Bucky and Tony raised their guns, firing out of their respective windows. 

The bikes and their riders ducked and weaved between the bullets and Bucky bit back a curse. He yanked the wheel to the left and the first bike narrowly avoided being taken out by falling behind again. The second bike hesitated for the briefest of moments, no doubt checking on his companion, before shooting after them once more.

“Grab the wheel,” Bucky ordered.

“What the fuck?” Tony exclaimed.

“Now!”

Bucky leaned out of the window, firing off a series of shots at the second bike, hitting the asphalt right in front of the bike’s tyres, forcing the driver to duck and weave and slowing his progress.

“You’re insane,” Tony snapped when Bucky slipped back through the window.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky grinned. 

He floored the accelerator again, gaining ground on the bikes as they recovered from his attack and using his enhanced senses to his full advantage, saying a quick prayer of thanks that he was the one behind the wheel when Hydra found them rather than Tony. Bucky scanned the road ahead, looking for something, anything which could help them make their escape. 

There!

At the last minute, he yanked the wheel to the side and slammed on the brakes, the rear of the car sliding out as they turned into a smaller sideroad. In the backseat, Elly yelped and Harley exclaimed, “Shit!”

“Language!” Tony called. “Christ, I’m turning into Cap. They’re still behind us,” he added, looking between the headrests. “Shit. Bucky, they have a machine gun. On the car, they have a machine gun.”

A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed Tony’s claim. Bucky’s eyes danced across the road, his mind whirring at ten to the dozen, calculating probabilities and outcomes, trying to find out how they were most likely to survive this.

“Hang on!”

He swung the car into a field filled with trees, weaving through the trunks with ease born from the serum. The car was clearly not built for offroad driving, tossing them about like a dinghy in a storm. It didn’t matter; they didn’t need to go far, just far enough.

“I’m gonna stop behind that hill,” Bucky explained. “You take the kids, you hide before they catch up and you _do not_ come out until I tell you, okay? Undo your belts and when I say go, you go.”

“What are you going to do?” Tony replied.

Bucky grinned. “I’m gonna get us a new ride.”

Tony shook his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered. 

_You and me both_ , Bucky thought.

He managed to coax a little more speed out of the car, the bikes disappearing as he turned behind the hill. The track was too narrow for Hydra’s car, meaning it - and its machine gun - was stuck on the road. But the bikes were small and agile and would be on them in seconds.

“Go!” Bucky yelled, slamming on the brakes.

The car slid to a stop, its back end spinning out as the tyres failed to gain traction on the dirt. Tony and the kids tumbled out of the passenger-side doors and raced away. Bucky kicked open the driver’s door, reloaded his gun, and jogged up the hill, staying low to avoid being seen.

And not a moment too soon. 

The bikes shot round the hill. They narrowly avoided crashing into the abandoned car, circling it in search of its missing occupants. Bucky raised his gun and exhaled. 

This was where it could all go wrong. 

He let a sense of calm wash over him, focusing on the rider of one bike and following him with the gun. He would’ve preferred a rifle for the accuracy, but he was the Winter Soldier. He could make the shot, even with a pistol. And it felt good to use his skills to protect for once.

He waited, watching the rider’s movements, and it was like the world slowed down. Bucky knew what was about to happen before it did: the rider would turn, exposing a sliver of his neck. Bucky raised his gun. 

Just as he predicted, the rider turned, and the bullet hit his neck below his helmet, and his body jerked as he fell off of the bike. 

Now for the tricky part; he’d exposed himself to the second rider, making it a race against time to find out who would get the other first. The remaining rider wheeled towards the sound of the shot. Bucky eyed his jacket. He couldn’t afford to wait for the right opportunity this time, not when the rider was approaching and closing in on him.

The rider raised his arm, gun in hand, and they both fired.

The rider’s shot skimmed Bucky’s shoulder, ripping through his hoodie and nicking his skin. Bucky hissed.

Bucky’s shot went straight into the soft fabric of the underarm of the rider’s jacket. He cried out, falling back off of the bike.

Bucky ran down the hill, grabbing the nearest bike and riding it over to Tony and the kids. “Elly, with me. Tony, take Harley on the other one.”

Tony nodded, already running towards the abandoned bike with Harley on his heels.

“Hang on to me,” Bucky instructed, wrapping Elly’s arms around his waist and trying not to think about how fragile they felt. “Do not let go.”

“Okay,” Elly replied. Her voice was a little faint, but brave, and Bucky’s heart swelled. 

He patted her hands, revved the engine and turned the bike onto the track, which disappeared into the woods. He heard the sound of the other bike’s engine roaring into life and he took off, Tony and Harley appearing in his periphery.

Bucky kept one eye fixed on the rearview mirror as they drove, but as the miles passed and no one appeared behind them, he allowed himself to relax a little more.

They’d done it. They’d escaped. 

* * *

The bikes were too conspicuous to use for long - particularly since none of them had helmets - and Bucky knew they probably had trackers in them too. But they were fast and put enough distance between them and Hydra for Bucky to push the Soldier away. They abandoned the bikes in the next town they came to, Bucky did his usual junkyard car acquisition, and they set off again with Tony behind the wheel. 

Bucky only allowed Tony to drive because his arm was killing him where the bullet grazed him and he doubted he had the reflexes necessary to protect them. 

Besides, Tony flew a high-tech suit of armour; his own reflexes were probably pretty damn good.

They reached Columbus, checking into one of their standard two star motels which left a lot to be desired in the way of comfort and cleanliness. Bucky winced as he hauled himself out of the car, his hand twitching towards his injured shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” Tony frowned on the other side of the car.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Bucky assured him. 

Tony’s mouth set in a hard line. “How did those bastards even find us, anyway?” he muttered, slamming the door shut.

As he moved to follow Tony and Elly into the motel room, Harley’s hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling Bucky to a stop. He turned, wondering if Harley was about to shout at him again, but instead of the anger or the challenge from earlier, he looked scared.

Bucky’s heart jumped. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a million horrible possibilities flying through his mind already.

“What if… What if earlier, when I yelled at you, what if somebody filmed it?” Harley’s voice shook and he twisted his hands together, staring at the ground as though he wished it would swallow him up. Bucky dropped to his knees, tucking Harley’s hair behind his ears and thinking absently that he probably needed a haircut.

“Why would they do that?”

Instead of scoffing at Bucky’s ignorance, Harley swallowed and explained, “Because it’s a thing people do. They film things that they think are funny or embarrassing and they put it on the internet so people can laugh. And, um…” His voice broke. “Even if they don’t say where it is, smart people, people like Tony, they could figure it out. What if that’s how they found us? There was a girl with her phone out, watching us.”

Harley’s big blue eyes were filled with tears waiting to spill over and he looked young, so very young.

“Tony’s going to be so mad,” he whispered. “It’s all my fault and he’s gonna hate me.”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “No, he won’t. Tony won’t hate you.”

“But he will,” Harley insisted. “He told us there were bad men and that they were dangerous and mom always said that people might try to hurt us and I didn’t listen.”

“You made a mistake. We all make mistakes. Tony won’t hate you,” Bucky assured him. “I know it. I’ll talk to him.” He rubbed Harley’s shoulders. “Don’t worry.”

It was a mark of how upset Harley was that he allowed Bucky to wrap an arm around his shoulders as they made their way inside, even leaning against Bucky’s hip for the briefest of moments when they crossed the threshold.

“What were you two doing?” Tony frowned.

“Just talking.”

“Fine. You-” He pointed at Bucky. “Bathroom. Now. I wanna see that arm.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky insisted.

“Barnes, what about that sentence made you think I was asking?”

“Fair enough.”

Bucky eased his hoodie off, wincing at the pain shooting down his arm, and then again at Tony’s sharp inhale of breath; his dark hoodie hid the worst of the blood, but the dark red stain stood out starkly against his grey shirt.

“It’s not as bad as it looks?” Bucky offered. 

“Shirt off,” Tony murmured, tossing the first aid kit onto the sink.

“You might have to help me.”

As Tony rolled Bucky’s shirt up, revealing his chest, Bucky tried to keep his tone as casual - and as pain free - as possible as he asked, “Hey, Tony? If somebody took a video and uploaded it to the internet, could you find out where it was taken? Even if it didn’t say?”

“Easily. Why?” Tony frowned.

“Harley yelled at me when we were getting lunch,” Bucky admitted, perching on the edge of the bathtub so Tony could take a better look at his bicep. “He thinks somebody might’ve filmed it. You think they could’ve found us that way?”

“Maybe. But so quickly?”

“Well, uh, I remembered something when you were asleep,” Bucky continued. “I’m from Indiana. I was born there. What if they counted on me remembering that and had people waiting in case I showed up?”

“Probably,” Tony muttered, rummaging through the kit. “In fact, very likely. And since we don’t know how high this shit goes, we don’t know what resources they have or-” Tony broke off, gripping the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned white.

Bucky reached out, but the moment his fingers touched Tony’s back, it was as though he broke out of a trance, swinging into action with almost manic efficiency, too-bright eyes and an expression which said very clearly that he did _not_ want to talk about it.

Tony’s hands were trembling as he cleaned the wound on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s head was a little woozy from the blood loss but he focused on Tony, using him as an anchor. 

“Almost done,” Tony said, his mouth tight. His lower lip trembled. He exhaled and blinked rapidly, and his hands were really shaking as he tried to remove the backing from the adhesive bandage. “Here,” Tony said, his voice breaking. He swallowed. “Here we go.”

“Tony,” Bucky murmured. “Tony.” He caught Tony’s wrist before he could pull away. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“This never should’ve happened,” Tony hissed. 

“But it did,” Bucky said calmly, blinking when his vision swam. “And I’m fine.”

“It was too close,” Tony insisted.

“Keep your voice down. He'll hear.”

“Maybe he should!” Tony cried. “We could’ve died. We all could’ve died and it-”

“Would’ve been an accident,” Bucky interrupted before Tony could say something he would live to regret.

Tony glared at him, his eyes bright with tears, and Bucky’s heart went out to him. He reached for him again but Tony jerked away. “I’m going to get dinner,” he muttered, walking out of the bathroom before Bucky could say a word. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the motel room. 

Bucky sighed. He eased himself off of the edge of the bathtub, grimacing as his wound twinged, and made his way through to the bedroom. Elly and Harley were perched on the bed, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. After grabbing a shirt from his backpack and carefully pulling it on, Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and opened his arms. 

“Come here,” he murmured. 

Elly glanced at Harley, nudging him forward. Bucky raised his arm and Harley shuffled into his side, sniffing loudly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky whispered, wrapping his arms around Harley and kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, _mon petit caneton_ , it’s okay.”

“Tony’s really mad,” Harley whispered, his shoulders shaking as he began to cry. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky told him. “I know you didn’t.” Even though he knew Harley wanted to deliberately hurt Bucky with his words, there was no way his son could’ve foreseen the consequences. How could he? Harley had no idea what Hydra was capable of. 

“And… And you got shot,” Harley choked.

“This? Nah, this is nothing,” Bucky brushed it off.

“You could’ve died! And it would’ve been because of me.”

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky commanded gently, cradling Harley’s face in his hands as though he was something precious. No, he _was_ something precious. One of the two most precious things in the world. “I'd die a hundred times over if it means keeping you safe.”

“You can’t _say_ that!”

Bucky grinned. “I can. Cause it’s true.”

“But why?”

“Because I love you.”

He didn’t even stop to think about it, the words just came out and _oh_. He loved Harley. He loved Harley and Elly more than anyone in the world. That was what the feeling in his chest was. He loved them.

Bucky tucked Harley into his side, reaching with his other arm for Elly until they were sitting in a jumble of limbs and he had at least two elbows and a nobbly knee jabbing him in the side but Bucky didn’t care. He had his children back. Hydra came for them and they failed.

“I love you both,” he murmured, kissing the top of their heads.

“I love you dad,” Elly replied instantly.

Harley didn’t say anything, but he fisted his hand in Bucky’s shirt, holding on to it with a death grip, and Bucky smiled.

When Tony returned, he brought food and a frosty air that lingered all night. After Bucky tucked Harley and Elly into bed, he followed Tony towards the bathroom, slipping through the door before Tony could close it behind him.

“What are you doing?” Tony hissed, anger flashing in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” Bucky told him. “Harley made a mistake. Don’t be so tough on him.”

“Next time we might not be so lucky.”

“There won’t be a next time,” Bucky promised, and let himself out of the bathroom.

* * *

Tony was an early riser, so it wasn’t unusual for him to be the first out of bed in the morning. But Bucky was a light sleeper, no doubt born from his years as Hydra’s favourite plaything, and he usually woke as soon as he heard Tony shift. 

But the past few days had been long and difficult and exhausting for everyone. First the revelation about his parents then their near miss with Hydra in Indiana, which resulted in them spending the past two days on high alert. So Tony didn’t think much of it when he rolled out of bed in Fargo and Bucky didn’t so much as shift. 

When he emerged from the bathroom, Bucky was still lying face down, his hair half covering his face as he snored into the pillow. Tony threw him a glance, before shaking Harley and Elly awake.

“Morning,” he whispered when two pairs of sleepy eyes blinked up at him. “Go use the bathroom and get ready. I’ll wake Sleeping Beauty.”

Tony crouched by the bed and shook Bucky’s shoulder gently. “Bucky. Bucky, wake up.”

Bucky grunted. “Fuck off, Steve.”

That was new.

“I’m not Steve.”

Bucky twisted, opening one eye to stare blearily at him. An awkward moment passed where Tony felt like he should smile, but he clamped down on the urge because he was still angry at Bucky even though he found himself forgetting to be angry more and more with every passing day.

“Shit, how drunk was I last night?” Bucky yawned.

“You weren’t?” Tony frowned, unease creeping along his spine.

“I musta been, sugar, to forget bringing you home.”

_Shit._

Tony remembered the articles he’d read about amnesia, the ones folded and pressed in his jacket pocket. He thought about the one that spoke about flashbacks and displacement, and swallowed hard.

“Bucky, where are we?” he asked, keeping his voice calm.

Bucky pulled a face and replied, “Brooklyn,” in a tone which clearly implied that Tony was nuts.

Tony’s heart pounded in his throat. “Bucky, honey, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“You’re being fucking weird,” Bucky retorted. “C’mon, we gotta get going,” he continued, swinging his feet out of bed. “If I’m late again, Morris is gonna pitch a fit. Jesus, my hair’s getting long. My ma’ll kick my ass if she sees it like this.”

This was Bucky before the war, Tony realised. Bucky pre-Hydra, pre-capture, pre-brainwashing. This was the Bucky Steve remembered, the one he was searching for and hoping to find in Switzerland. This was who Bucky should’ve been.

“Hey, where d’you work, anyway?” Bucky called, pulling on his clothes. “I ain’t seen you at work, I don’t think?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “I’m an engineer.”

“An engineer? Wow,” Bucky grinned. “Big man.”

Tony let out a wet chuckle, ignoring the dampness pressing at the corner of his eyes. “I’m a glorified mechanic. And you? What do you do?”

“Oh, I’m nothing special,” Bucky shrugged. “I’m just down at a site in Flatbush, you know it?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing,” Bucky grinned. “Morris - he’s my super - guy’s kinda a jackass, you know, but the rest of the crew, they’re hard workers. Decent fellas. Hey, you want we should swing by Gnome’s on our way out. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You’re buying me breakfast?” Tony smiled while trying not to cry.

“Least I can do, sugar.” Bucky winked.

“If you can’t remember,” Tony teased, falling easily into the role Bucky’d given him, “How do you know I came home with you? Maybe I came home with Steve?”

“Naw, no chance,” Bucky grinned. He folded his arms, leaning against the wall and it was startling, the difference between this Bucky and the Bucky he’d spent the past two weeks with. That Bucky, even as he relaxed, was cautious and wary and quiet. This Bucky was loud and obnoxious and so very not subtle. “Y’ain’t Stevie’s type.”

Behind him, the bathroom door opened, and Harley and Elly appeared. Tony raised his hand, signalling to them to stay still. He wasn’t sure what would happen if Bucky saw them and he didn’t want to risk it.

He hummed. “Guess not. Steve’s type is more… bad-ass women who don’t take shit from anybody?”

“Damn, you do know him,” Bucky laughed. He patted Tony on the shoulder, heading towards the door. “Come on, sugar, we better get going. I’ll drive.”

But then Bucky stuttered, his face falling into a frown, confusion in his eyes. 

“No… That’s not- That ain’t right. I don’t have a car… Why’d I think I have a car?”

“Bucky?”

Shaking himself, Bucky continued, “Come on, let’s go. If I’m late again, Morris is gonna pitch a fit. Jesus, my hair’s getting long. My ma’ll kick my ass if she sees it like this. You wanna round up the kids?”

Bucky stuttered again, as though walking into a wall. His face crumbled and he clutched at his hair.

“Bucky?” Tony called softly.

Bucky stumbled backwards, his back hitting the wall, and slid to the ground, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Tony murmured, crouching in front of him. “Hey. Buckaroo. Look at me.”

“What’s in my head?” Bucky whispered. Tears began to slip down his face. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong? What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you.”

“What did they do to me?” Bucky sobbed.

For the first time, Tony saw how far Bucky had to go in his recovery. Reading the words on a piece of paper didn’t compare to seeing the evidence before his eyes. Scooting forward, he knelt between Bucky’s feet and pulled him into a hug.

“Tony, what did they do to me?”

“They hurt you,” Tony whispered into Bucky’s hair, allowing a couple of his own tears to slip free. “They hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

It was so frustrating, to be so powerless, to do nothing but hold Bucky and soothe him and tell him he would be okay when it tasted a lie, because there was no way Tony could tell if Bucky would ever be okay. He wanted to destroy Hydra for what they’d done.

“I’ve got you, honey,” Tony breathed, holding Bucky tight and rubbing circles into his back. Bucky’s shoulders shuddered beneath his hands. Tony closed his eyes and told himself that he wasn’t going to cry. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

“Are you mad at me?”

Tony glanced down at Harley by his side, watching him with worried eyes. “No. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at Hydra for being a bag of dicks.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Once he’d finally managed to calm Bucky down, Tony’d tucked him back into bed and left him and Elly curled up together, watching cartoons on the TV in their motel room while he and Harley went shopping. They’d decided when they arrived the night before to stay in Fargo for two nights while they prepared for crossing the border, so at least that was something. Bucky didn’t have to feel guilty about delaying their progress on top of everything else.

“What happened this morning?”

Tony froze, his hand outstretched towards the hiking backpack on sale in the outdoor store they’d found. He swallowed. “Hydra, the bad guys. They, uh, they hurt Bucky,” he explained. “They did things to him and now he, um. He has memory problems. And this morning, he thought… He thought he was somewhere else. In his past. Before all of this happened to him. And when he realised the truth, it scared him. A lot.”

“It was scary to watch,” Harley admitted.

“Yeah, it was,” Tony agreed.

“Will he get better?”

“I hope so.”

And he did. Tony’s anger towards Bucky was all but gone now, replaced by anger and hatred of Hydra. It was hard to hate Bucky when he saw firsthand what had been done to him.

“What did they do to him?” Harley asked.

Tony swallowed. “They hurt him. Come on, let's get this stuff and we can head back, okay?”

Harley nodded. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. About what I did yesterday. And not just because the bad guys found us because of it. I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t want him to leave.”

Tony smiled. “I know you don’t, kid. Neither do I. Neither do I,” he realised.

* * *

Over the next few days, they fell into an awkward but tentative balance. Bucky attempted to withdraw after his breakdown, but neither Elly nor Harley allowed him to. And Tony was struggling to find the words to tell Bucky that everything was okay. How did you tell someone _hey, I know you killed my parents but it wasn’t you, and I know I was mad at you before but I’m not now and I don’t blame you, I blame the evil Nazi organistation that captured you and brainwashed you for seventy years?_

Yeah. That wasn’t a conversation he knew how to have. 

They made their way closer to the Canadian border, where Bucky knew they could cross safely. They ditched their final junkyard car and hiked their way to the Superior National Forest, and spent their final night in the USA camping.

Bucky had a map spread out on his lap when Tony emerged from the kids’ tent after putting them to bed. He caught Tony’ eye indicating for him to join him. Tony sat down next to him, their knees brushing, and leaned over the map. 

“We can cross the border here,” Bucky explained, pointing at the map, “Or here. These exact coordinates. No cameras, no patrols, and I know when the drones go overhead.”

“So we have options,” Tony nodded. 

“No,” Bucky replied. “We’re using both of ‘em. We’re splitting up.”

“What?” Tony looked up sharply.

“One adult, one child,” Bucky explained, holding Tony’s gaze steadily. There were dark flecks in his grey eyes, Tony noted. “Less noticeable than four of us.” 

Tony really wasn’t sure about this and it must be written across his face, judging from Bucky’s expression. Fear and disappointment flickered across Bucky’s face. For the world’s greatest assassin, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. 

“Trust me,” Bucky murmured. 

“I do,” Tony replied immediately and bit back a smile at Bucky’s expression of surprise. “So. Which one’s mine?”

“Uh, I was thinking that one,” Bucky pointed at the map. “Elly and I’ll take this one. We hike to here together, then split.”

Tony nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky echoed. 

“Yes. Okay. Si. Oui. Let’s do this. I trust you,” Tony repeated. Before he could get to his feet, Bucky’s hand shot out, squeezing Tony’s knee. Tony looked up in surprise.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmured.

“You’re welcome,” Tony replied, holding Bucky’s gaze steady. 

Bucky had beautiful eyes, he thought absently.

Realising how long they’d been staring at each other - and that Bucky’s hand was still warm against his knee - Tony cleared his throat and stood up, feeling his face heat. “We should, uh, get some sleep.”

“Yup. Sleep. Right,” Bucky nodded. “Good plan.”

“Yeah. Good night,” Tony nodded.

“Good night,” Bucky echoed.

Tony paused outside the tent, glancing back towards Bucky, only to find him staring back. Tony swallowed. “You coming?” he asked, relieved to find his voice reasonably steady. 

But he was even more relieved when Bucky said, “Yeah,” and he could hear the wobble in his voice too.

* * *

Morning came cold and damp. Tony ached in ways he didn’t know it was possible to ache, before his first night in a tent and scowled when his back twinged because he wasn’t old, dammit! He sat up carefully, but it was impossible not to disturb Bucky in these close quarters.

These oh-so-close quarters. 

They dressed in awkward silence. What did you say to someone in a situation like this? Hell if Tony knew. So instead, he focused on waking Elly and Harley and making sure their belongings were divided equally between the four backpacks. 

They set off together, making the first part of the journey together. They’d explained the plan to Harley and Elly over breakfast and Tony was surprised by the lack of resistance from them, especially Harley. Instead, they two children just looked at them with big, round eyes and nodded their agreement. 

By midday they came to the point where they would have to go their separate ways. They stood at the fork in the trail, knowing it was time to split up but neither of them wanting to be the one to say it. Despite his words the night before, the thought of splitting up terrified Tony. 

Bucky exhaled, blowing out his cheeks. “Alright,” he said, breaking the silence. “Time to go.”

Tony nodded. There was a lump in his throat and he didn’t know why. Or rather, he did know why; he just didn’t know what to do with the knowledge.

“Come on, kid,” he said, squeezing Harley’s shoulder. He tweaked Elly’s nose, smiling faintly as she squirmed away. “Be good, Short Stack.”

“I will if you will,” she retorted.

Tony laughed.

Harley was lingering, watching Bucky with an uncertain expression. It did things to Tony’s already messed up heart when Bucky offered Harley a small smile and winked.

“Look after her?” Harley mumbled.

“Of course,” Bucky replied instantly.

Elly sniffed. “I don’t need looking after, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky grinned. “See? She’s gonna look after me.”

“See you tomorrow?” Harley asked, and Tony could hear the faint note of pleading in his voice.

“Tomorrow,” Bucky promised.

Then they turned in opposite directions and began to walk.

Only Tony couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just walk away.

“Bucky?” he called, spinning around. Bucky turned to him in surprise. “Be careful,” Tony said. There was more he wanted to say, he just didn’t know how. He just hoped this would be enough. 

Bucky held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded.

“You too,” he replied.

Tony nodded back. Then steeled himself, turned around, took Harley by the shoulder, and walked away without looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

“When did you cross the border?” Steve asked. He didn’t care, didn’t think it mattered. But he knew Fury and others in the government - both American and Canadian - wanted to know how, exactly, Tony made it over the border so they could close the gaps and tighten the net against anyone searching for safety or a better life.

“Uh… I don’t know.” Tony scrubbed his hands over his face before pushing his glasses back onto his face. “April. I think?”

Steve didn’t buy it for a minute. Sure, Tony’s voice sounded genuine and there were no tics or tells suggesting he could be lying, but Steve knew Tony Stark. Or, more accurately, he knew the old Tony Stark. And the old Tony Stark didn’t forget anything, even something as arbitrary as a date.

This Tony Stark? 

This Tony Stark wouldn’t forget anything. And definitely not something which could hurt his family. 

“Right,” Steve said softly. “And you met up the following day?”

“No,” Tony replied. “Things, uh, didn’t quite work out as planned.”

Steve snorted. “I know what that’s like.”

“Yeah,” Tony grinned. “Guess you do. Did Natasha ever forgive you for that stunt you pulled in Madripoor?”

“Please don’t mention that in front of her,” Steve begged. “I like not sleeping on the sofa. And, you know, I’m fairly attached to all of my body parts, so please: do not mention Madripoor.”

“Fine, but you owe me,” Tony sniffed dramatically. 

Steve chuckled. “So. On a scale of Houston to Madripoor, how badly did things go wrong for you?”

“Somewhere around Bogota. We had worse calls.” Tony folded his arms. “But this one… This one got to me.”

* * *

It took Tony six and a half steps to realise Harley was no longer at his side. He turned and found Harley standing, looking around like the lost little boy he really was. Tony walked back to him. When he touched Harley’s shoulder, he jerked and looked up at Tony.

“You okay, kid?”

“We’re going to see them again, right?” Harley asked in a small voice.

A lump lodged itself in Tony’s throat but he managed to smile around it. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll see them again. It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t believe that,” Harley said.

Tony smiled. “You are far too observant. Just like your dad. Come on. We have to keep moving.”

“Have you ever been camping before?” Harley asked as they continued on their way.

“Uh, no,” Tony replied, slinging his arm around Harley’s shoulders. “Well, technically. I went on this company retreat thing that was supposed to be a camping trip but we weren’t really camping. We stayed in these cabins instead. Which is probably good, because a whole bunch of science geeks stuck in tents all weekend really wasn’t going to go well. Even in cabins I think the only thing we agreed on was that all mosquitoes needed to die. So much for team building, huh?”

Harley chuckled.

“What about you? You ever been camping before?”

“Once. When I was five. With my dad.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was the summer before he left.”

“He didn’t leave,” Tony said softly. “He was taken away.”

Harley was silent for a moment, before continuing, “We went up into the hills above our house. He took a tent and we had so much junk food. Like, so much. And he told me not to tell mom about all the candy and stuff because he knew she wouldn’t be happy.”

“She didn’t want you eating that crap?”

“No, he took it from her secret stash!” Harley grinned. “She was so mad when she found out! And dad, he just stood there and he, like, grinned at her. Like, he knew she’d forgive him. She yelled at him for a while and he just stood there, until she stopped yelling and then he kissed her, which is gross, but then mom just smiled at him and shook her head. Then she said something I didn’t understand.”

“What do you mean?” Tony frowned. 

“It was in French,” Harley shrugged. “My French wasn’t so good then.”

Tony filed away that piece of information to ponder upon later. “How did your camping trip go?”

“It was really fun,” Harley said. “After he… went, I thought… I thought he was leaving me with a good memory and I was angry at him.”

“Maybe he was,” Tony mused. Bucky would’ve known there was a chance Hydra could find him and take him away from his family at any moment. It wasn’t implausible that he would’ve done all he could to give his children memories of him while he could. 

Tony wondered what it must be like to live your life like that, knowing that everything could be torn away from you at any moment and you would be powerless to stop it. 

“I haven’t thought about that trip in a long time,” Harley admitted. “I didn’t like thinking about my dad after he left.”

“You were mad. That’s understandable. And I know something about being mad at your dad,” Tony mused. “My dad, I mean, not your dad. Although I was mad at him too.”

“But not anymore?” Harley asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Wanna play a game?” Harley asked.

“What kind of game?”

“I dunno,” Harley shrugged. “I spy?”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “You wanna go first?”

“Okay. Um… I spy with my little eye…”

* * *

Mid-afternoon the following day, Tony and Harley walked into Thunder Bay, Ontario. They made their way across the city to the Old Country Motel, where they’d arranged to meet Bucky and Elly. There was a Dairy Queen down the street, so Tony made a quick detour for some chicken strips which they ate in their room. 

And then they waited. 

They waited all afternoon, watching the light fade outside the window. Evening approached, and Tony made his way to the Chinese takeout around the block, hoping that when he returned, it would be to Bucky and Elly’s arrival. Instead, he came back to Harley, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at him hopefully. Harley’s face fell when he recognised Tony and Tony had to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Here we go,” he announced with faux brightness. 

“I’m not that hungry,” Harley shrugged. 

“Hey. Come on kid. You gotta eat.” Tony nudged him. “They’ll be here soon.”

He chivvied Harley to the tiny table, taking one of the mismatched chairs and sitting down. He unpacked their dinner and tried to make it look like he wasn’t picking at his food. He managed to eat enough of his noodles to make it look good, storing the leftovers in the mini fridge for Bucky or Elly when they showed up.

When they showed up.

They had to show up. 

After dinner, Harley curled up on one of the beds, watching the TV with wide, watery eyes. Tony climbed onto the bed beside him, slipping his arm around Harley’s shoulder and held his tongue when Harley nestled into his side. 

Harley wasn’t the only one in need of comfort.

It looked wrong, that night, to see Harley sleeping alone after putting him and Elly to bed together for two weeks. Tony stood watching Harley sleep for longer than he should’ve before forcing himself to go to bed. Then he lay awake, staring up at the ceiling before letting his head fall to the side and staring at the empty space beside him. He’d grown accustomed to seeing Bucky sleeping next to him, face down into the pillow, his hair like a bird’s nest and snoring quietly. 

_You got complacent_ , he scolded himself. Even when he was mad, knowing Bucky would be there, at his side, was comforting. Suddenly, Tony realised all the anger, all the resentment he’d been carrying around, none of it meant anything. He didn’t care what Bucky had done. He just wanted him back. 

“Where are you?” he whispered. 

Tony huffed and turned onto his side, punching the flimsy pillow into submission and trying to push down the voice in his head which insisted that something was wrong. 

Morning came after a fitful night’s sleep and still no Bucky or Elly. When Harley woke and saw Tony was the only one in the room, his face crumpled. Tony couldn’t bring himself to lie and pretend everything was okay because it wasn’t. It wasn’t okay. Nothing had been okay since Alexander Pierce walked into his tower and asked about Harley. 

Was this how he felt? Was this how Bucky felt when Tony left? Wondering where he was and if he was okay and when he was coming back- _if_ he was coming back. Tony stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. They couldn’t wait forever. If Bucky and Elly didn’t arrive today, they would have to move on.

“I don’t know if I can do this on my own,” Tony admitted, before splashing his face with water. 

Harley was getting antsy, so Tony took him for a walk down by Lake Superior. They ate a sandwich by the lakeside in silence, then Tony watched Harley toss stones into the lake. Tony wrapped his jacket more securely around himself, fighting a losing battle against the easterly wind blowing off of the lake. It nipped at his cheeks and for a moment, Tony allowed it to blow away the knot of fear and anger and imagined he was just a father with his son enjoying the afternoon. 

Tony closed his eyes and breathed in. 

When he exhaled, he opened his eyes once more and glanced around, checking that no one was watching them. Nothing. Only a man with a little girl walking hand in hand along the sidewalk. Tony watched them for a moment, smiling at the expression of amusement on the man’s face as the girl chattered away. The man noticed Tony watching and gave him a smile of solidarity, glancing over his shoulder towards Harley. Tony threw him a wave, then turned back to watch Harley. 

They spent the afternoon by the lake, before making their way slowly back to the motel in silence. They crossed the street, turning into the motel’s parking lot, and Tony almost tripped over Harley, who’d stopped suddenly.

“Dad,” Harley breathed.

Tony’s head snapped up and his mouth fell open as he spotted Bucky and Elly across the parking lot, emerging from the reception. They looked battered and worn but whole and uninjured.

For a second, Tony wondered if they were real. Then Bucky looked up, their eyes locked, and Tony knew they were really standing there. Relief bubbled in his chest.

“Here,” Tony said, passing Harley the room key. “Take them inside. I’ll go get dinner.”

Harley nodded, clutching the key, then sprinted across the parking lot towards his sister. Tony glanced at Bucky once more, holding his gaze, before walking away. 

* * *

“You’re late.”

Relief flooded through Bucky at the sight of his son, whole and healthy and glaring up at him with eyes demanding an explanation. His hand twitched at his side, fighting the urge to pull Harley into his arms and press a kiss into his hair. 

“Yeah. Sorry, kid,” he replied.

Harley sniffed haughtily. “Don’t do it again.”

A laugh punched its way out of his chest without Bucky’s permission. He offered Harley his pinkie. “I promise.”

Harley eyed him suspiciously, then linked their pinkies together, shaking them up and down to seal the deal. Then he turned to Elly, pushing her shoulder with his fist. Elly scowled and pushed him back until they were tussling in the parking lot because heaven forbid anyone in this family knew how to communicate their feelings with actual words. Bucky chuckled, grabbing the top of their heads - gently, he knew how much force he had in his hands, and he wasn’t about to harm his children - and turned them towards the rooms. “C’mon you idiots.” 

“Where did Tony go?” Elly asked as Bucky unlocked the door, sticking his head into the room before letting the kids in.

“He went to get dinner,” Harley replied. “Where were you? Tony was really scared.”

“Just Tony, huh?” Bucky called, checking the bathroom for intruders, just in case. 

“Were you scared?” Elly grinned at Harley, dumping her backpack on the floor, before pulling off her jacket and dropping it too. Her sneakers quickly followed suit. She scrambled onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward to poke Harley in the shoulder. “Were you?” she demanded.

“No!” Harley scoffed. 

But Bucky noticed Harley’s eyes darting between the two of them constantly, as though he was afraid they might disappear if he blinked too long. Bucky unclipped the straps on his backpack, lowering it into the corner of the room. When Elly wasn’t looking, he ran a hand over Harley’s head and flicked his chin on the way past. Harley’s head snapped up, a half-scowl on his face, but Bucky winked at him, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and Harley hesitated.

Then he tentatively smiled back and Bucky thought his heart might burst. 

“You two stink,” Harley declared. 

“We’ve been camping for three days!” Elly retorted. 

“Your brother’s right though,” Bucky interrupted before it could develop into a full-blown argument. “Go shower before Tony gets back.”

Elly sighed dramatically, sliding off of the bed and flouncing into the bathroom. Was this parenting? Bucky wondered. Spending the entire time torn between all-encompassing love, fierce protectiveness, and the urge to throttle your child yourself? 

“You okay?” Bucky murmured, once he heard the shower stutter into life. He unzipped his jacket, hooking it on one of the flimsy plastic hangers in the wardrobe before perching on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots.

“Yeah,” Harley nodded, his voice small. “Thought you weren’t coming.”

Bucky paused. He sat up so he could hold Harley’s gaze steady.

“I will always come for you,” he promised. “No matter how hard it is, no matter how long it takes, I will always come for you.”

They stared at each other, the only noises coming from Elly in the bathroom. The moment stretched, then finally Harley nodded. 

In a small voice, he added, “Thanks dad.”

Bucky swallowed. “Hey, Harley? I love you, _mon petit caneton_.” 

Harley ran his foot back and forth, watching his toe rub the thread-bare carpet. When he looked up, it looked like he wanted to say something but was struggling to get the words out.

He was saved by a rap on the door, the familiar rhythm of _Malibu_ in morse code. Bucky toed off his boots, then crossed the room to let Tony in.

“Thanks,” Tony said from beneath his hood, rain rolling off of the waterproof. Bucky leaned past Tony to close the door, before pushing Tony’s hood down, since his hands were full with the bags of take-out. 

Bucky sucked in a breath.

How was it he’d managed to forget in only two days how beautiful Tony was? Or, perhaps he’d never fully appreciated it until now. Bucky knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it. And in his defence, Tony was staring straight back at him. 

Bucky knew his memory had more holes than a block of swiss cheese, but he knew, he _knew_ that dripping wet in a crappy motel in Canada, Tony Stark was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“Dinner,” Tony said softly. “I got dinner.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Bucky nodded.

He wanted to kiss Tony. God help him, he wanted to lean forward and kiss Tony. 

Tony nodded and it was like the spell was broken. Bucky turned, returning to pick up his boots and shove them into the wardrobe. He glanced over his shoulder when Tony almost tripped over one of Elly’s abandoned sneakers. 

“Seriously?” Tony huffed, putting down the bags of takeout before bending to pick up the offending shoe. “What, am I a maid service?”

Bucky realised he was smiling at Tony, a soft amused smile, and wondered distantly if his face would start to hurt from all the smiling he seemed to be doing these days. Tony noticed, jabbing a finger towards him, and warned, “You. Don’t even.”

Bucky held up his hands in silent surrender, biting back - holy shit, was that a laugh?

“Dad! I forgot my clean clothes,” Elly yelled from the bathroom. 

“Alright, hang on,” Bucky replied. He retrieved a clean set of clothes from her backpack, opening the bathroom door just enough to stick his hand through and waiting until Elly took the clothes from his hand.

“Hey, what’s the magic word?” Tony called.

“Tony!”

“Well, yes,” Tony grinned. “But not what I meant. Say thank you.”

“Thanks dad!” 

The bathroom door reopened and Elly, dressed and wet-haired, ran out of the room and threw herself into Tony’s arms. Bucky’s heart seized, but Tony had quick reflexes, catching her easily and lifting her up onto his hip.

“Hi Miniature Human,” he grinned. 

“I missed you,” Elly declared. 

“Yeah? Good. I missed you too,” Tony replied, kissing the top of her head before dumping her on the bed next to Harley. “Alright, who wants spring rolls?”

“Me!” Harley and Elly chorused, pushing each other out of the way to try and get to the food first.

“Calm down, Jesus Christ, you’re not animals,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Honestly, who raised you? Disasters, that’s what you are, a pair of disasters.”

Bucky smiled - again with the smiling - and leaned against the wall, content to wait a moment and just enjoy the warm air the rattling heater in the corner was spitting out while Tony’s good-natured complaining and the kids' ruckus washed over him.

“Hey Metallica?” Tony called, snapping Bucky out of his daydream. “Better move fast before the vultures steal all the food.”

“Coming,” Bucky replied, pushing off of the wall and rejoining his family. “So what happened to you?” Tony asked, hooking a chair with his foot and sitting down in it. 

The anger that had been simmering in Tony’s eyes since Denver was gone, Bucky realised. Replaced by… something. Something Bucky thought he recognised but was almost afraid to hope for. 

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one who knew that was a good point to cross,” Bucky replied, helping himself to a dumpling. “Only they got caught. We had to lay low and when it became clear they were gonna keep guarding the area in case there was anyone else out there—”

“In their defence, there was,” Tony pointed out.

“Yeah,” Bucky shrugged. “When I saw they weren’t leaving, we had to double back and cross at the same point you two did.”

“They didn’t see you?” Tony asked quietly as Elly and Harley began arguing over whether or not Elly should be allowed some of Harley’s hoi sin sauce.

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head, passing Elly his own hoisin sauce. “I heard them long before we saw ‘em. They never saw us and they didn’t have dogs. We’re good.”

“Good,” Tony echoed, giving Bucky a tentative little smile. 

Bucky smiled back, wondering what the weird swooping sensation in his gut was. Maybe it was the chicken. 

Maybe it was his imagination, but something felt different that night as they tucked the kids into bed. Or maybe it was just the relief of being reunited and in a motel once more after spending the past few nights camping. Bucky kissed Elly’s forehead and ruffled Harley’s hair, leaving Tony to say good night while he took a long-overdue shower. 

When he stepped out of the shower, Bucky wiped the condensation from the mirror with his forearm and stared at his reflection. He ran a hand through his hair - or, he tried to, only for his fingers to catch on the multitude of knots. His eyes fell on the comb on the edge of the sink.

He swallowed.

“Hey, Tony?” he called softly, stepping out of the bathroom in only his underwear and a t-shirt.

Tony looked up from shifting through the kids’ dirty clothes, and was it Bucky’s imagination or did Tony’s eyes linger on Bucky’s chest for a second longer than necessary? “Yeah?”

Bucky held up the comb. “Will you help me?”

Some emotion flickered across Tony’s face, too fast for Bucky to categorise it, and he nodded, abandoning the clothes and following Bucky back into the bathroom. Tony closed the door behind him, and Bucky knew the bathroom was small, but it seemed tiny with Tony beside him.

“Do you want to sit?” Tony asked quietly.

“Uh, I’d… Not if i don’t have to,” Bucky admitted. Images of a chair with vicious clamps flashed in his mind and his skin crawled. 

“Okay,” Tony nodded. “Turn around.”

Bucky swallowed. He handed over the comb then turned back towards the mirror. It was already covered in a fresh layer of condensation, but Bucky could still make out his features, albeit blurred by the moisture on the glass, and Tony behind him. 

Tony worked slowly, starting at the ends of his hair and working back to the scalp. His hands were sure but gentle. Whenever he came across a particularly vicious knot, Tony held the hair above it, taking away the worst of the pain, or abandoned the comb completely to tease the hair apart with dexterous fingers. 

It was simultaneously soothing and painfully tense all at once. 

Bucky kept his gaze fixed on their reflections in the mirror, using it as an anchor to stop himself from floating away. As the rattling fan drew the moisture from the air, the condensation cleared and his face became clearer. Tony’s fingers grazed the back of his neck and Bucky tensed to stop the shiver that threatened to run down his spine.

“Okay?” Tony murmured, glancing up, meeting Bucky’s gaze in the mirror.

“Yeah.”

Tony turned back to his work and he was being gentle, so very gentle, that it took everything Bucky had not to tremble. When was the last time he’d been touched like this, with thought and care laced in every movement? He couldn’t remember.

Tony’s face creased into a small frown whenever he encountered a stubborn knot, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he worked. Every time it happened, Bucky smiled to himself, fighting the urge to duck his head.

Eventually Tony softly announced, “Done.” He ran the comb through Bucky’s hair with ease, brushing it back from his face. Then he shifted to the side, holding out the comb.

“Thank you,” Bucky replied, taking the comb and setting it down on the sink without taking his eyes from Tony’s.

Tony was so close. Bucky could hear his heartbeat, he could hear every breath Tony took, he could feel the warmth coming off of his skin. Bucky’s skin prickled. Raising his hand slowly, Tony raked his fingers through Bucky’s hair and this time Bucky couldn’t curtail the shiver, which only grew when he heard Tony’s sharp intake of breath.

“Say stop and I’ll stop,” Tony whispered.

“I know.”

Tony leaned forward and butterflies fluttered low in Bucky’s gut and he wanted this - shit, he wanted it so much - but at the same time he was terrified. Because what if this changed things? What if it was a disaster? What if it sent them spiralling back into those horrible, awkward silences of the days following his revelation about Tony’s parents? And, shit, should they even be doing this considering everything Bucky had done?

His heart hammered in his ears, the fears and thoughts blocking his airway, but then Tony’s lips touched his and everything fell away.

It wasn’t even a proper kiss, just a brush of the lips.

It was _everything_.

It wasn’t _nearly_ enough.

Tony drew back, leaving scant distance between them. His eyes flickered over Bucky’s face and Bucky felt his face heat. It must’ve shown, because a small, hopefully smile bloomed on Tony’s face and if Bucky had any breath left to steal, it would’ve snatched it away and left him breathless all over again.

Tony leaned in again, hesitating a hair’s breadth away, and Bucky whimpered.

“Please.”

He wasn’t sure who spoke; it might’ve been him, but he saw the same sentiment echoed in Tony’s eyes. And then they were kissing, properly this time, Tony’s hand on the back of his head drawing Bucky forward. Bucky didn’t know what to do with his hands but then one found Tony’s hips and the other fisted in his shirt and yes, that worked, because then Bucky could pull Tony closer too and closer was good, closer was great because holy shit, how had he managed to spend so long not being this close to Tony before now?

Bucky gasped, feeling heat pool in his groin, and then Tony’s tongue was in his mouth and that was better, that was so much better.

Tony’s hands maneuvered him back and Bucky wondered what he was doing, but he trusted Tony, trusted him more than anyone in the world, so he went with him, even though Tony had no chance of moving him if Bucky didn’t want him to. Something Tony obviously figured out, groaning against Bucky’s mouth as they stumbled towards the door.

Briefly, Bucky wondered if Tony’d managed to forget about the children sleeping outside, but he should’ve known better than to doubt him. Tony pulled him up short before his back could hit the door, reaching past Bucky to fumble with the lock.

“Don’t want to be interrupted,” Tony murmured.

“Good plan,” Bucky whispered, and Tony beamed at him, sending another jolt of heat towards Bucky’s groin.

Pushing aside his disbelief and any lingering doubts, Bucky pushed Tony until his back hit the bathroom wall. Tony hummed appreciatively, tipping his head back and using the hand in Bucky’s hair to direct his mouth onto his neck.

“Yeah,” Tony gasped when Bucky bit down gently on the skin, the stubble prickling against his lips. “That’s good.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Bucky confessed, pressing their foreheads together. “So I’m gonna need you to gimme some direction here.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Tony asked, his tone laced with concern.

Bucky grabbed Tony’s hand, pulling it down and pressing his palm against his hardening cock. “Yeah. Pretty sure. Just, um, not too much, okay?”

Tony kissed him and Bucky’s stomach swooped. When he pulled back, Tony pinned him with a hard stare that sent shivers down Bucky’s spine, and said, “If I do _anything_ you don’t like, you say stop. I do _not_ want to hurt you.”

Bucky recalled the anger and horror on Tony’s face the night they met, when Bucky failed to tell him that it hurt when Tony worked on his arm, and nodded. 

“Clothes on or off?”

“On is an option?” Bucky asked curiously. 

“Very much so.”

“On,” he decided. “For now. I mean, I wanna. Eventually. But—”

“Slow,” Tony finished with an fond smile and Bucky wondered if Tony was proud of him for voicing his limits. 

“Slow,” Bucky agreed.

Then Tony was kissing him again, and Bucky could hear their heartbeats, both pounding and singing as Tony fisted his hand in Bucky’s hair.

Bucky pushed Tony further into the wall, muffling the delicious sounds escaping from his mouth. Tony wound his arms around Bucky’s neck, winding a hand into his hair and pulling him closer even though Bucky was pretty sure it wasn’t possible for them to _be_ any closer. But then Tony hooked his legs around his waist, using Bucky’s shoulders for leverage, and Bucky realised yes, they could be closer and it was _amazing_. Tony was pinned against the wall, using it to push his hips into Bucky’s. 

Bucky felt dizzy with joy and relief, rutting against Tony’s hips like a teenager, because for the first time in a long time he was doing something because he wanted to, because it was his choice, because he looked at Tony and saw someone beautiful and amazing and kind. 

Bucky slipped his hands under Tony’s ass, supporting his weight and digging his fingers into the denim of his jeans and the flesh of his ass below it. Tony groaned, his head falling back against the wall, biting his lip to keep the volume down.

“You’re trouble, Barnes,” Tony grinned. “I can tell already.”

Bucky laughed, nudging Tony’s lips with his own until they were kissing again, their hips rolling together. Between the kisses that felt like they were burning him and the friction of Tony’s jeans and cock rubbing against his own dick, igniting a fire in his belly, Bucky wondered if he could stay here forever, with Tony in his arms, his hands roving over Bucky’s chest. Belatedly, Bucky wished he’d suggested taking their shirts off.

 _Next time_ , he thought, then realised with a thrill that he wanted a next time. He was making plans, even if those plans were just for sex.

Tony linked his hands together on the back of Bucky’s head, tilting his head up so their eyes met. Tony was looking at him like he was something special and precious. “Is this okay?”

“This is amazing,” Bucky replied.

Tony grinned, grinding his hips against Bucky’s. Bucky threw his head back, hissing sharply as he fought to stay quiet. He jolted in surprise when Tony’s teeth scraped over his pulse point; combined with the friction of their dicks rubbing together, even through their clothes, it was all too much for Bucky. Rocking against Tony’s hips once last time, he spilled into his shorts, gritting his teeth and swallowing his cry. 

It took a minute for him to come back to himself. When he did, Tony was stroking his hair and kissing along his jaw. 

“Shit,” Bucky gasped, dropping his head onto Tony’s shoulder. “Tony, that was amazing. Wait, you— You haven’t…?”

“Not yet,” Tony murmured. 

“Uh, do you want… I don’t know?” He felt helpless. For the first time, he started to feel overwhelmed. But then Tony kissed him gently and Bucky’s anxiety melted away. “Tell me what to do?” he asked.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Tony smiled. “We can stop right now and-”

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “No, I wanna see you come.”

“Oh, thank God,” Tony blurted out. “I was trying to be supportive but I have never been this turned on in my life.”

Bucky giggled, pressing their lips together. 

“Can I touch myself?” Tony groaned. 

“Yeah. Yeah, do it,” Bucky nodded.

“Thank you!” Tony exclaimed. He unbuttoned his jeans and reached into his pants, gasping when his hand wrapped around his dick. Bucky’s mouth went dry. He kissed Tony’s neck, sucking on the skin because it felt good when Tony did it to him and he wanted to make Tony feel good too. “I’m close,” Tony rasped. “Bucky…”

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me,” Tony pleaded. 

So Bucky did. 

Tony came with a muffled groan, his hips stuttering against Bucky’s, then his head fell back against the wall with a faint _thunk_. When he opened his eyes again, they were shining with unshed tears. Bucky’s heart jumped. Had he done something wrong? 

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Tony whispered, pressing his palm to Bucky’s cheek. “I was so scared.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky promised.

Tony smiled. “Good. Come on. Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Sounds good.”

* * *

The feeling of being watched dragged Tony out of sleep. A groan escaped from the back of his throat and he turned into the warmth of Bucky’s body on the other side of the bed. But still the feeling of being watched persisted.

Opening his eyes, Tony blinked until his vision cleared and he saw Bucky sleeping next to him. He smiled automatically, drinking in the sight of Bucky, sleep-tousled and dozing. As usual, he was sprawled out on his stomach, his face half mashed into the pillow and the other half hidden beneath his hair. Tony reached out, carefully picking the hair from his face, smiling when Bucky’s nose scrunched adorably. Then Bucky’s eyes opened, blinking across the space between them.

“Morning,” Tony whispered.

“Hey,” Bucky smiled.

Then Tony realised he still felt like he was being watched. Raising his head, he started when he saw Harley standing by the bed, frowning down at them.

Shit.

There wasn’t exactly time the night before to discuss with Bucky what, if anything, they were going to tell the kids about their… whatever this was. And until now, Tony’d made a point of waking with the dawn - okay, it wasn’t much of a point considering he woke that early naturally - but the orgasm and the warmth of Bucky’s body next to him, combined with the knowledge that he was allowed to touch now, had lulled him into a false sense of security and switched off his internal alarm clock. Which meant for the first time, Harley was awake before Tony had climbed out of bed. 

“What are you two doing?” Harley frowned.

“Uh… There was only one bed,” Tony blurted out. 

Harley pulled a face, as though he knew something was off.

“Hey, go take a shower,” Tony ordered, hoping the change of subject would be enough to distract him. “We gotta leave soon.”

“Okay,” Harley shrugged. 

Tony breathed a sigh of relief and let his head fall back onto the pillow, sharing a smile with Bucky. “Close call,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded before closing the distance between them and brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Tony’s breath hitched. His hand came up, brushing Bucky’s jawline; he needed another point of contact with Bucky. Actually, what he needed was to roll him over and fall asleep on his chest, but that wasn’t an option, so an extra point of contact would have to be enough.

(It wasn’t.)

“I could get used to waking up like this,” Bucky said, his voice low and gravelly, which did things to Tony. Delightful, wonderful things which he didn’t have the time for right now.

“Me too,” Tony agreed. “We should move.”

“Yeah. You get the kids, I’ll get the car?”

“Deal,” Tony nodded, stealing one more kiss from Bucky before kicking the covers out of the way and swinging his feet out of bed. 

Tony chivvied Harley and Elly into action, getting them dressed and packing up their stuff, before heading down the block to get donuts for breakfast. When Bucky drew up in what was no doubt another junkyard hotwire, Tony bundled the kids into the backseat before climbing into the passenger seat and offering Bucky a donut.

“Thanks,” Bucky grinned.

“When we get settled somewhere, we’re all eating vegetables for a week,” Tony announced, “To combat all the crap we’ve eaten in the last two weeks.”

“I ate my vegetables last night!” Elly piped up. “Broccoli is amazing.”

“That’s because you’re good,” Tony said.

“No, it’s because she’s weird,” Harley argued. “Who likes broccoli?”

“You’re weird,” Elly retorted. “You think anchovy pizza is good.”

“It is good!”

“Where to now?” Tony murmured as Bucky turned the car out of town to the soundtrack of the siblings bickering in the backseat. 

“That thing you said just now about settling somewhere sounds pretty good,” Bucky replied. 

Tony smiled, his eyes tracing Bucky’s profile as he concentrated on the road. Bucky was beautiful, which explained the lust he felt, but not the warmth in his chest and the urge to wrap himself around Bucky like an octopus. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It really does.”

* * *

They spent the next couple of days making their way slowly across Ontario, and Tony and Bucky spent the next few nights steadily reducing the space between them in bed every night, until they slept sprawled across each other, sharing pillows and body heat.

“Where are we going?” Tony whispered as they lay in bed in a motel in Timmins, picking a stray lock of hair out of Bucky’s face. He trusted Bucky but his curiosity over their final destination was growing.

“How does London sound?”

Tony blinked. “Like it’s on the other side of the Atlantic. Gonna be hard to drive there in a junkyard car.”

Bucky chuckled. He caught Tony’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, a move which absolutely did not make Tony want to swoon because he was a grown-ass man who didn’t do things as ridiculous as _swoon_. “Naw, not that London. London, Ontario. College town, so lotta movement, come and go. Don’t wanna go somewhere too small; we’ll stick out too much.”

“Sounds good,” Tony nodded.

Bucky’s gaze turned intense. It was a powerful thing to have turned on you full force and Tony had to remind himself _two kids in the room less than three feet away_. Having a pair of pint-sized chaperones had certainly made this a unique experience in a new relationship. Usually, when Tony started a relationship, the first few weeks were spent, well, mostly naked. But it was different this time, and privately Tony thought it was probably for the best. After all, for all his enthusiasm, Bucky wasn’t ready to throw himself into a relationship that way. 

And they still had a lot to work through. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bucky asked.

Tony grinned. “Of course.”

Bucky leaned in, cupping Tony’s cheek, and kissed him slowly. Yes, Tony thought, this was for the best. It might even be better.

They arrived in London and spent that night poring over the for sale ads, looking for a house that would give them enough privacy without raising suspicions. Bucky assured Tony he had enough money to buy them a house which left Tony wondering if Hydra really wouldn’t miss this money. And if they didn’t, how much money - and as a result, power and influence - did Hydra truly have? With Alexander Pierce at the helm, he’d known it would be considerable, but the more he learned, the more terrified he became. 

“Where did you get those?” Tony asked when Bucky handed over a new ID, with Tony’s face smirking up at him from the picture and the name Anthony Armstrong. Bucky had his own ID, under the name Scott Proctor.

Bucky hesitated. “You probably don’t want to know.”

“Fair enough,” Tony nodded. “How deep does this cover go?”

“How deep do you want it to go?”

With his new ID in hand and a baseball cap on his head, Tony set off to view the house they thought would suit them best on paper, leaving the kids under Bucky’s care. Or perhaps he was under their care. Tony smiled at the thought. 

“So what do you think?” the realtor asked once Tony’d seen the whole house. “Pretty great, huh?”

“Yeah, not bad,” Tony agreed. He especially liked the fact it was on a double plot and the basement had outside access. It was a bungalow, as per Bucky’s instructions, just in case they had to make a quick exit through a window. “I’ll take it.”

“Excellent!” the realtor beamed. “How soon are you looking to move in?”

Tony gave him a shark-like grin. “How about tomorrow?”

* * *

“Dad!” Harley’s voice bounced off of the walls, followed by the rumble of feet racing through the corridor until he burst into the living room where Tony and Bucky were rearranging the furniture they’d bought from a thrift store, skidding to a halt in a burst of righteous indignation. “Tell Elly she can’t have my room!”

“It’s not your room!” Elly yelled, racing in and pushing him out of the way. 

“I called dibs!” Harley snapped. “Then she stole it when I was in the bathroom.”

“That’s what you get for having a small bladder!”

“Dad, tell her!”

“No, tell him!”

Bucky’s face took on a slightly terrified expression which only grew as Harley and Elly’s argument continued. Tony bit back a laugh, before asking quietly, “Want me to take this one?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky replied instantly.

Tony chuckled, pressing his palm to Bucky’s cheek before crossing the room to interrupt Harley and Elly’s argument which was rapidly escalating towards a physical fight. 

“Hey!” he called. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal: whoever can guess how many fingers I’m holding up behind my back, or whoever’s closest, gets the room, okay?”

“But I had it first,” Harley whined.

“But it’s got my stuff in it,” Elly retorted. 

“Hey, game of chance or you two are sharing a room,” Tony warned. He slipped his hands behind his back, folding down three fingers on one hand and two on the other. “Elly, your guess?”

“Um, nine.”

“Harley?”

“Four.”

Tony held up his hands, revealing the five fingers he was holding up and Harley punched the air. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! I get the room. Told you it’s my room. I’m gonna throw your stuff out—”

“No throwing anyone’s stuff,” Tony warned as Harley disappeared down the hall. He turned to Elly, who scowled up at him. She opened her mouth, an argument clearly on the tip of her tongue, but Tony cut her off, pointing a warning finger as he said, “Hey! Don’t even try it, little miss.”

With a huff, Elly turned and flounced out of the room. 

Tony glanced at Bucky. “She definitely gets that from you.”

“Nah,” Bucky grinned. “That pout’s definitely all her mom.”

“Is it?” Tony asked. Bucky’s memories of Kimberly Keener remained nonexistent, although he’d confided in Tony that he was certain that her name wasn’t really Kimberly. 

Bucky frowned. “I don’t know.”

Tony’s heart went out to him. He slipped his hand into Bucky’s hair, clean and smooth beneath his hands, and kissed his temple. “You’ll get there,” he murmured. 

“You think so?”

“I have faith in you,” Tony smiled. 

Bucky relaxed under his hands, curling into Tony and slipping an arm around his waist. He pressed their foreheads together and Tony’s eyes drifted closed. For a briefest second, Tony allowed himself to relax, to forget about the threat of Hydra and Pierce, of the danger which could be lurking around every corner. 

There was a thud, followed by Harley exclaiming, “Elly!” and Tony sighed, his lips curving up into a smile. 

“Is this what a normal life’s like?” Bucky whispered.

Tony opened his eyes. “I have no idea,” he confessed. 

Harley shrieked.

“We should deal with that,” Tony realised, pulling away.

“Yeah, definitely.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tony broke off when a knock on the door echoed through the interrogation room. Steve’s face fell into a frown. Pushing back his chair, he crossed to the door, yanking it open and found an FBI agent standing on the other side.

”What?” Steve snapped.

"Agent Ross wants to know how long this is gonna take.”

”As long as it takes,” Steve retorted. “Tell Ross that if he’s got a problem, he can come and say it to my face. He just might like my answer.”

Without waiting for a response, Steve slammed the door in the agent’s face and sat down again. When he looked up, he found Tony watching him with a small smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What?”

Tony shrugged. “I missed you.”

Steve blinked in surprise. Then he smiled back. “I missed you too, Tony.” 

Tony clapped his hands together. “Now, where were we?”

* * *

Elly let out a long-suffering sigh and Harley’s jaw clenched. Across the table, Bucky watched them warily, certain that they were mere moments from a total meltdown and wondering vaguely how quickly he could escape the splash zone.

Then he remembered he was their father and therefore supposed to curb said meltdowns before they could explode. Suddenly Bucky wanted to run for a totally different reason.

“You’re not doing it right,” Elly informed her brother, her tone more than a little condescending. 

“Shut up, Elly!” Harley growled, hunching over his workbook. 

Elly turned to Bucky, giving him a commiserating look as though he was supposed to know what they were talking about. “Tell him he’s not doing it right.”

“Uh…”

When Bucky offered to help the kids with their studies, he’d been under the illusion that he would be _able_ to help them with their studies. An illusion which both children had shattered almost instantly. Harley was at least a grade ahead of where he was supposed to be, and Elly, she was a grade ahead of Harley. At nine. Bucky was out of his depth.

“Look,” Elly declared with a long-suffering sigh. “It’s 2y times 3y². That’s 6y³, not 6y²,” she finished, rolling her eyes. 

“Go away,” Harley exclaimed, pushing her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“But it’s wrong!”

“I don’t care!”

“You don’t care that it’s wrong?” Elly echoed and okay, the condescending tone had dialled up even further.

“Hey, what are you working on?” Bucky interrupted, trying to draw Elly back to her own work.

“Cosine rule,” she shrugged. “It’s easy. I finished already.”

“What’s a cosine rule?” Bucky asked, hoping he wasn’t about to get the same condescending expression Harley had. 

“The cosine rule can be used in any triangle to calculate a side with two sides and the angle in between them are known, or an angle when three sides are known,” she recited. “See, like this.” She grabbed a piece of paper and sketched out a rough triangle before writing a formula. “So a² equals b² plus c² minus 2bc cos A, get it?”

Nope.

Bucky blinked at the paper. He could work out angles in his head like that when it came to taking a shot, but it was just something he knew instinctively how to do. There were no formulas and definitely no letters weaseling their way in with the numbers. 

“Harley, you’re doing it wrong again!” Elly exclaimed.

“No, I’m not! Shut up! Leave me alone!”

And that was his cue to call for backup, Bucky decided, leaving his squabbling children to go in search of Tony. He found him in the bathroom, perched on a set of steps in the bathtub, repairing the extractor fan which kept blowing out the breakers.

“Hey,” Bucky called.

“Hi,” Tony grinned down at him. “Sounds like things are getting pretty heated.”

“Yeah, I need help,” Bucky announced. “This maths is way out of my depth. When did maths start involving letters?”

“Ah, algebra,” Tony nodded. 

“Yeah and I think Elly’s a genius,” he added. “So, uh, help?”

“They’re two seconds from starting a wrestling match in the middle of the kitchen, aren’t they?”

“Maybe less.”

“Okay,” Tony laughed, hopping down from the stepladder. He squeezed Bucky’s shoulder on the way past. Bucky smiled. Tony was incredibly tactile, only growing more so as they became more comfortable with their relationship as the days passed. “Alright you monsters,” Tony called, cutting off Elly and Harley’s rising voices. “What’s going on?”

Bucky left Tony to deal with the school stuff, crossing the kitchen and turning on the kettle, glancing out of the window and scanning the area for threats out of habit as he waited for the water to boil. 

Nothing. 

Just a regular, suburban street on a Friday afternoon.

Bucky breathed out, telling himself to relax. They were safe. There was no reason to think that Hydra would find them here. After all, what would Tony Stark and the Winter Soldier be doing in a house in suburban Ontario? With any luck, Hydra would expect them to go completely off the grid, living in the middle of nowhere, not surrounded by civilians. 

The kettle flicked off, snapping Bucky out of his reverie. Filling two mugs, he crossed the kitchen, handling one to Tony and blowing gently in his own coffee.

“That’s it,” Tony praised Harley, throwing Bucky a quick smile of thanks. “Now you’re getting it.”

“See,” Elly said, leaning over Tony. “I told-”

“Nope,” Tony interrupted, covering her face with his hand and pushing her - gently - back into her seat. “You worry about your own work, not your brother’s.”

Elly huffed, but she sat down and returned to her workbook, allowing Bucky to breathe a sigh of relief. He was quickly coming to the realisation that parenting seemed to be an exercise in crowd control a good percentage of the time.

“All good?” Bucky murmured.

“Yeah,” Tony nodded. “Although, how do you not know this?”

Bucky fixed him with a look. “I haven’t been to school in this century.”

Tony chuckled. “Fair point.”

“When are we starting school?” Elly asked, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Two weeks,” Tony replied, pulling a tissue from his pocket and wiping her nose. “And you remember what we talked about?”

“Yes,” Elly rolled her eyes. “No being smart, no standing out, and no starting fights.”

“Exactly,” Tony nodded. “I know it’s going to be boring, pretending to be normal, but when you come home, then you get to work on stuff like this. And most important of all - you listening, young lady - no antagonising your brother. You hear me?”

Elly rolled her eyes again. “Yes.”

“Good,” Tony said, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. “Are we good here?”

“Yeah,” Harley admitted reluctantly and Elly nodded.

“Good,” Tony declared. “Now. If you need me, I’ll be sweet-talking an extractor fan.”

* * *

Bucky folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe and allowing a small smile to make its way onto his face as he looked across the bedroom at Tony. Tony was sitting on the bed, stripped down to a tank top and a pair of soft pyjama pants, his legs crossed neatly at the ankle and the elbow of one arm sticking up in the air above his head as he leaned against his hand. He was concentrating on the book in his other hand, his brow furrowed above the frame of his dollar store glasses and one lip held between his teeth. 

It was breathtakingly beautiful in its simple domesticity and Bucky wanted more.

Realising he was being watched, Tony glanced up, smiling easily. “Hey. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Bucky shrugged. “Watching you.”

“Well, that sounds boring.”

“Nope,” Bucky shook his head and grinned when Tony blushed.

“Are you coming back to bed?” Tony asked. It was still early; the kids wouldn’t surface for hours yet. But Tony was a morning person and Bucky was conditioned into waking early, no matter how much he hated it.

“Um, actually,” Bucky began nervously, dropping his gaze to Tony’s shoulder. “I was hoping you’d help me. With my hair.”

“Sure, what’s the problem?” Tony frowned, already climbing off of the bed and padding across the room.

“Can you cut it?” Bucky asked, nerves rolling in his gut. “Then, uh, dye it?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “You want to dye it?”

“Not really,” Bucky admitted. “But I wanna change how I look. Before I start, you know, going out more. Being seen.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Alright. Let’s do this. If you’re sure?”

Bucky nodded, even though part of him remained unconvinced. He reached out, tangling his fingers with Tony’s and was rewarded with a reassuring smile and a gentle kiss which eased the knot of fear in his throat. He let Tony take the lead, following him into the bathroom without releasing his hand. 

“This would be easier if you can sit,” Tony warned. “I can try like this if you want though?”

Bucky swallowed. He could feel the clamps biting into the flesh of his arm and the pressure on his temples from the headpiece, knowing that any second now, he would feel the sparks of electricity against his skin as everything was taken away from him. His fist clenched, but it would be worthless, because once he was in the chair there was nothing could do, he was defenceless and—

“Hey.” Warm hands brushed his hair back from his face. Bucky blinked, his eyes refocusing on Tony’s concerned face in front of him. “Maybe we should leave this for another day?”

Bucky shook his head, not quite trusting his voice.

“Bucky—”

“I’ll be fine,” Bucky insisted, hating the rasp in his voice. Tony didn’t look convinced. “Please, Tony. I have to do this.”

“But you don’t have to do it right now,” Tony pointed out gently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You would never,” Bucky replied instantly with conviction. He took a deep breath and sat down on the closed toilet lid while Tony collected the scissors. His pulse was still hammering faster than usual, but Bucky reminded himself this was Tony, and Tony would never purposely hurt him. Tony was a good person. He was nothing like the monsters in Hydra who tortured him and hurt him for seventy years. Even at his angriest, Tony still tried to help Bucky. 

“Ready?” Tony asked.

Bucky nodded. “Do your worst, Stark.”

“Oh, so you want frosted tips and a mullet?” Tony grinned. Bucky raised an eyebrow. Tony shrugged, “There was an incident in college. Rhodey’s never quite forgiven me. In my defence… Yeah, no, actually I don’t have a defence. I was a dumb, drunk idiot.” 

Bucky chuckled, feeling himself relax as Tony’s words washed over his and drained the anxiety away. So much so that he didn’t even realise Tony had started cutting his hair until he heard the soft snick-snick of the scissors behind him. 

Tony kept up a constant stream of words which stopped Bucky from slipping away and whenever he started getting too tense, Tony paused until Bucky gave the go ahead to continue. 

“How does that look?” Tony asked eventually, stepping back to allow Bucky to move in front of the mirror. Bucky ran his hand through his new, shorter hair which came to the base of his skull.

He could see his face. It was no longer hidden by a curtain of hair whenever he moved. It still didn’t look right, but it looked better than the long hair did. Did he have short hair in the past? Maybe that was it. 

“You want more off?”

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head. “This is good.” 

“Ready to go blond, then?” 

“Guess so.” 

Going blond took a lot longer than Bucky expected and involved a lot of chemical smells that made his nose wrinkle. Tony disappeared while the bleach was in his hair to rouse the kids and feed the breakfast, returning a few minutes later. 

“That was fast.”

Tony shrugged. “I let them eat breakfast in front of the TV. I thought parenting was supposed to be hard?” he teased. 

Bucky chuckled.

“Alright, let’s take a look. That looks pretty good. Ready to wash this gunk out and see what you look like, honey?” 

“Let’s do this,” Bucky nodded.

Tony helped him wash his hair and dry it, before pressing a kiss to his temple and murmuring, “I’ll go make breakfast. See you in a minute.” 

“Yeah, see you,” Bucky echoed, feeling a burst of butterflies erupt in his gut at the thought of seeing his new reflection in the mirror. 

He waited until Tony left the room, pulling the door closed behind him, then Bucky moved in front of the mirror and stared. 

He was still staring when Tony returned. In fact, Bucky was so busy staring at his reflection, he didn’t notice Tony’s presence until a hand touched his shoulder and he jumped.

“Easy, just me,” Tony murmured. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, turning back to the mirror. “I look weird.” 

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, tucking Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “But you always looked weird.”

A laugh burst out of Bucky, taking him by surprise. Tony grinned over his shoulder, slipping his arms around Bucky’s waist. Bucky felt himself melt a little when Tony pressed his lips against his temple, leaning back into his arms. They looked so good together.

“So, uh, breakfast is ready, if you want,” Tony said, his tone far too casual to be up to any good. He kissed his way up the column of Bucky’s neck. “Or, we can take advantage of the fact that the kids are occupied to practise a very, very important skill. One which we are definitely going to need during our time here.”

Bucky reached back, running his hand through Tony’s hair. “Yeah? And what skill would that be?”

He shivered as Tony tugged on his earlobe with his teeth, tilting his head to give him better access. “The ability to have sex quietly.”

Bucky grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

It was easy to forget, some days, why they were in Canada and what they were running from. It was easy to forget when Tony woke every morning with his nose buried in Bucky’s hair. Or when Harley and Elly came running up the path every afternoon after school, always letting the door slam closed behind them despite Tony’s constant teasing that he actually wanted to use that door again. Or when the four of them gathered around the tiny dining table for dinner, elbows knocking into each other and Bucky’s foot hooked around his ankle.

And then, along came a moment to completely shatter those illusions. 

Tony woke and instead of Bucky by his side, there was nothing but empty sheets. He frowned, raising his head and glancing around the room in search of his wayward boyfriend, only to come up empty. Kicking his legs free from the tangled covers, Tony rolled out of bed and padded through the house. The bathroom door was open and the kids’ doors remained closed but as he stepped out of the hallway, Tony caught sight of Bucky standing in the middle of the living room, staring towards the window.

Any relief he felt was quickly swept away when he spotted the gun in Bucky’s hand, fully loaded and ready to fire.

“Bucky?” Tony called softly. He knew Bucky would’ve heard his approach but he was yet to acknowledge Tony’s presence in any way. “What’s going on?”

“Where am I?” Bucky asked, his voice emotionless, and Tony’s heart sank. It was one of those mornings. Sometimes Bucky woke uncertain of where he was or who he was. But judging by the gun, which Tony continued to eye warily, this was a particularly bad morning.

“Canada. London, Ontario. Remember?”

“No,” Bucky replied, glancing over his shoulder. He did a double take when he saw Tony, his eyes widening. “Howard?”

Tony pushed down the cocktail of emotions _that_ brought up with a firm hand and tried to focus on Bucky. “No. Tony. We met in Tennessee. Hey Bucky, you wanna give me that gun?”

Bucky glanced down at the gun, as though he’d forgotten he was holding it. Then he frowned. 

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You can trust me,” Tony promised. “I—” _love you_. “I would never hurt you.”

“Why don’t I remember?” Bucky ground out.

“Because Hydra are a bag of dicks who took your brain and put it in a blender because they thought it would be fun,” Tony replied. His heart jumped to his throat; he could hear Harley or Elly in their bedroom. It was only a matter of time before one or both of them emerged. “Bucky, please give me the gun. You’re scaring me.”

Bucky glanced at him again, before tossing the gun onto the armchair. Tony gasped in relief, snatching it up and securing it and tucking it into the back of his pyjama pants. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast,” he suggested.

“No.”

“What?”

“No,” Bucky repeated. “I want to remember. Why don’t I remember?”

“Because—”

“No, you said that,” Bucky snapped. “How long?”

“How long what?” 

“How long since, since I got away or whatever? How long since Hydra?”

“Nearly two months.”

Bucky laughed, sharp and cutting and so bitter that Tony only just suppressed his flinch. “Then shouldn’t I remember by now? Why can’t I remember?” he shouted.

“Bucky, please. Stay calm,” Tony said carefully.

“No!” he yelled and Tony could see the tears in Bucky’s eyes. “Why don’t I remember? What did they take from me? I want to remember!”

Harley and Elly tumbled out of their rooms with wide eyes just in time to see Bucky’s fist slam into the wall. Harley flinched, jumping behind Tony, while Elly let out a little gasp. Tony’s heart jumped. 

Forcing his voice to stay calm, Tony pushed Harley towards Elly. “Hey, take your sister into your room. I’ll be right there.”

They went, Harley’s eyes fixed on the floor, while Elly twisted to stare at Bucky over her shoulder. Once he heard the bedroom door close, Tony stepped forward, his hands up so Bucky could see they were empty.

“Listen to me,” he began. “You are Bucky Barnes. You were a Howling Commando. You were a prisoner of war. You are a father. You are… you’re mine. I know you’re scared, but you have to stop this because you are scaring those kids.”

Bucky’s face crumpled and he slid to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees and tugging at his hair. The blond was still jarring to Tony, although it certainly seemed less funny when Bucky was crying. Tony crouched next to him, wrapping his arms around Bucky and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbled. 

“I know,” Tony replied.

Bucky raised his head and the sight of his face streaked with tears broke Tony’s heart. “I woke and I didn’t remember anything since we left. I didn’t know if I was safe.”

“You’re safe,” Tony promised, even though part of him knew he couldn’t promise that.

“I’m just tired,” Bucky muttered, swiping his eyes angrily. “I think I remember something but then… Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m remembering or if I’m just making it up, what I wish happened.” He swallowed. “I should go.”

“What?”

Bucky pushed his way out of Tony’s arms, getting to his feet and brushing the tears from his face. “I’m dangerous. What if I’d shot you?”

“You didn’t.”

“I could’ve.”

“Bucky, you heard me coming. If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it before I knew what was happening.”

“That’s not okay!” Bucky exclaimed.

“Yes, it is because I trust you!” Tony retorted. “Bucky, why did you have the gun?”

“Because I didn’t want Hydra to get me again!”

“And why didn’t you shoot me?” he pressed.

“Because… Because… I don’t know. Something said I shouldn’t. But I didn’t believe it.”

“Yeah, and you asked if you could trust me,” Tony pointed out. “Please don’t leave. I need to know you’re safe.”

“But what if next time—”

Tony cut him off with a shake of his head, catching Bucky’s head in his hands and staring into his eyes. “You’re getting better. It’s only been two months.”

“And what if they find us?” Bucky whispered. “If they find us, they can make me hurt you.”

“I’m not that easy,” Tony whispered with a wobbly smile. He pulled Bucky into his arms, rubbing his shoulder softly. “If you leave, I’m going to follow you.”

“Why?”

_I love you._

Tony pressed a kiss into Bucky’s hair above his ear but said nothing, just holding him until they both stopped shaking.

“Are you gonna be okay while I go check on the kids?” Tony asked, pulling away slowly. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” Bucky replied, but Tony could tell he was lying. 

“How about you wait at the door?” Tony suggested instead. “And if they say it’s okay, you could come in. And if they say no, you’ll still hear me.”

“I always hear you,” Bucky replied. Then he blushed. “I just, uh, mean… My hearing, it’s better than a normal person’s. So if you’re in the house, I can hear you.”

“What if I’m not talking?” Tony smirked.

“One, you’re always talking,” Bucky rolled his eyes. “And two, I, uh, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Tony blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Not just yours. Everyone’s. But, uh, yeah.”

“Huh,” Tony smiled. There was something… strangely endearing about the thought that Bucky could hear his heart beating. He tangled their fingers together. “Come on.”

* * *

Bucky waited nervously as Tony knocked on Elly’s bedroom door, her voice sounding subdued when she called, “Yeah?” a moment later. Tony pushed open the door and Bucky saw Elly and Harley perched on the bed. Harley was huddled in a ball and he looked so scared that Bucky had the urge to gather him up in his arms and promise to protect him from whatever he was afraid of.

Only, he couldn’t do that because the thing that Harley was afraid of was Bucky himself. And that realisation left a bitter taste in Bucky’s mouth. 

“Can we come in?” Tony asked.

The hesitation from Elly was like a knife to the belly - and Bucky’d been stabbed before, that much he remembered, so he knew exactly what a knife to the belly felt like. And it hurt. 

“I can stay out here,” he offered, even though he didn’t want to, because Bucky figured it sounded better coming from him.

Tony threw him a questioning glance and Bucky nodded. Taking it as permission, Tony stepped into the room and joined the kids on the bed while Bucky tried to look as natural as possible while awkwardly leaning against the door frame.

“So, that was pretty scary this morning, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Elly nodded, while Harley traced the patterns on the bedspread. 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. He was floundering, Bucky realised, uncertain of how to explain to Elly and Harley exactly what happened. And then Bucky realised it was time to tell them the truth. 

“I wanna tell you what happened,” he announced, drawing all three sets of eyes to him. “I wanna tell you everything. Who I am, where I’m from. I think you two deserve to know the truth after… everything,” he finished lamely.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked softly. 

The concern in his eyes warmed some of the chill in Bucky’s bones. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Well, this is a long story,” Tony said, clapping his hands together, “So I think we should do this over breakfast. What do you say?”

Elly nodded, hoping off of the bed and ducking past Bucky to disappear down the hall towards the kitchen. Harley hesitated but Tony reached out to him, so Bucky bid a quiet retreat, allowing them a moment of privacy and using it to prepare himself for what was about to come. 

Once they were all gathered in the kitchen, Bucky made coffee while Tony made breakfast. On a whim, he mixed up two mugs of hot chocolate for Harley and Elly; as long as he didn’t stop to think about it, he could make them automatically. And he was pretty sure they could use the comfort.

Then they all sat down at the small table, Tony and Bucky next to each other with Elly next to Bucky and Harley on Tony’s other side. An air of awkward silence filled the room. Bucky gathered his courage and cleared his throat.

“My real name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he began. “I was born in 1917.”

“Wait, what?” Elly frowned, looking up sharply.

“Just wait,” Tony said softly. 

“I think I was born in Indiana,” Bucky continued, “But I grew up and lived in Brooklyn. I had a best friend, named Steve. Total dumbass.”

Tony snorted into his coffee. “He hasn’t changed much.”

“Then the war started. The, uh, Second World War. And I joined the army or was drafted, I don’t remember.”

“Drafted. You were drafted,” Tony supplied.

“I got captured but Steve, dumbass, came and rescued me and a lot of other soldiers. From Hydra.” Bucky’s fist clenched, his nails digging into his palm, until Tony covered his hand with his own. Bucky uncurled his fingers, lacing them with Tony’s and squeezing tight. “Instead of being punished for disobeying orders like he should’ve cause he’s a dumb punk,” Bucky continued, “Steve got his own team and I was part of it. It was called the Howling Commandos.”

“Wait.” Elly looked up. “You’re Bucky Barnes? That Bucky Barnes? I wrote a paper on you.”

“He’s that Bucky Barnes,” Tony nodded, smiling proudly. 

“But I thought Bucky Barnes died?” she frowned. “He fell off a train during a mission.”

_Snow. Cold._

“I don’t remember,” Bucky lied.

_“Sergeant Barnes… You will be the new fist of Hydra…”_

“He fell,” Tony confirmed, “But he didn’t die. He was captured. By Hydra.”

“That’s how I lost my arm,” Bucky added. “They gave me… this.” He raised his prosthetic. “Then they brainwashed me. When that didn’t work, they wiped my memories. And then… Then… They made me into an assassin. For seventy years.”

“Then how did you meet our mom?” Harley asked, speaking up for the first time. 

“I don’t… I don’t really remember,” Bucky confessed, frowning. “There’s still a lot of blanks. I remember… I remember being happy. I remember you,” he told Harley, “As a baby. And… you were so tiny. And I remember looking at you and being so scared, cause I was responsible for you. And I remember thinking I could never love anybody as much as I loved you.”

“You still left,” Harley glared.

“No, he didn’t,” Tony said. “I told you. He was taken.”

“Hydra found me,” Bucky explained. “They took me back and they wiped my mind again. They took memories of you. Both of you.”

“How did you remember?” Elly asked, quiet curiosity written across her face.

“Little things here and there. Blonde hair. A red ball. A baby crying. They were familiar but I didn’t know why. Then I heard some of them talking about… about how they were gonna hurt you. Or that they were gonna make me do it. And I’d never know. They didn’t know I’d started to remember. So I escaped, and I found you.” He glanced at Tony. “All of you. That’s it. That’s what I remember.”

“So, um, what happened this morning?” Elly asked, shifting onto her knees. 

Nerves twisted in his gut again and Bucky felt his hand tremble under Tony’s calloused fingers. He swallowed. “I woke up and I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t remember that I’d escaped. And I thought that if I had, then I needed to make sure Hydra couldn’t get me again. I’m not going. I’m never going back.”

With a lurch, Bucky realised he’d rather die than let Hydra capture him again. 

“Because of the damage to his brain, your dad’s memories might never recover completely,” Tony explained. “Obviously there is no precedent for this. It’s never happened before and probably never will again - God, I hope it never happens again. But amnesia doesn’t just go away overnight. And some memories never come back. Sometimes, he might act differently to how he normally does. That’s not his fault. It’s the damage to his brain.”

“You had a _gun_ ,” Harley muttered.

“Yeah. And I’m so sorry I scared you,” Bucky replied, feeling the pressure of unshed tears building and his throat closed. “I’m so, so sorry. I never wanna scare you or hurt you. But when I forget things, I’m scared too. I’m scared Hydra’s gonna come and find me. And hurt me.”

Harley raised his head, his chin jutting out, and declared, “I’d like to see them try.”

“Yeah!” Elly agreed.

Bucky blinked in surprise, feeling a little guilty because there was no way he deserved this display of loyalty. He glanced nervously at Tony, only to find him nodding in agreement. 

“We’re not giving you up that easily,” Tony announced. 

Bucky glanced around the table, at his _family_ , and told himself he absolutely wasn’t going to cry.

* * *

The days grew longer and the temperature crawled up as midsummer approached. When Tony glanced outside, he could see Bucky playing with Harley and Elly in the garden, laughing loudly as they chased him across the lawn and made up for all the years they’d missed out on with each other. One day, Bucky came home with a set of water pistols and that was it: all out war erupted in their garden. 

_“Is this what a normal life’s like?”_

Bucky’s words echoed in his head on an almost daily basis now, along with a melancholy regret that he’d never had this kind of childhood himself. Tony couldn’t help but wonder how things might’ve been different if he’d grown up as Anthony Armstrong rather than Tony Stark. 

“Are you listening to country music?” Tony called, stepping out of the house and crossing to the truck as Bucky killed the engine and the music died.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, hopping out of the cab. “Tried listening to that rock station you found, but they only play the same three damn songs on repeat. I got bored.”

Tony chuckled. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Bucky’s, smiling into the embrace when Bucky pressed his hand against the small of Tony’s back, pulling him closer. “Hey you,” Tony whispered.

“Missed you,” Bucky murmured.

Tony smacked his bicep ineffectively. “You were only gone an hour. Sap. D’you get it?”

Bucky nodded, taking the lead rounding the truck and pulling down the tailgate to grab the brightly cardboard box covered with pictures of the stereotypical white family sitting in a plastic pool. Bucky looked so good, Tony decided, with the slight tan beginning to colour his skin and his face filled out now that he was eating properly again. The blond hair was still a bit weird, but it was offset by the lazy grin Bucky wore most days now. 

“So how much screaming d’you think we gotta prepare for?” Bucky asked as they made their way to the basement door. 

“I think we’re probably going to be woken very early very rudely tomorrow morning,” Tony replied, holding the door open before following him down the concrete steps.

“Good,” Bucky declared.

“Only you would say that’s good,” Tony teased, poking Bucky with his toe as he put the box down.

“I’ve never been around for their birthdays before - not that I remember, anyway,” Bucky shrugged, grinning unrepentantly.

“Now I’m starting to wonder who’s more excited about her birthday: you or Elly.”

“Definitely me,” Bucky replied. A slow smirk spread across his face. “After all, your birthday was a _lot_ of fun.”

“Yes but for very different reasons,” Tony pointed out, pulling Bucky into his space and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. He smiled when Bucky’s hands gripped his hips, and felt his breath hitch as Bucky crowded him backwards until his back bumped into the basement wall.

“ _Very_ different reasons,” Bucky agreed, eyes twinkling. 

“You know,” Tony began faux-casually, tapping his finger against Bucky’s chest. “I kinda feel like taking my gift for another spin.”

“Yeah?”

Tony raised his head, staring into Bucky’s grey eyes. “Hmm, yeah. How does that sound to you?”

In lieu of a reply, Bucky leaned down and kissed him. Tony shivered, stroking the soft skin of Bucky neck with his fingers and letting Bucky press him against the wall. He let out a little gasp when Bucky pressed firmly against his ass, pushing their hips together. Tony couldn’t help but smile at the proud look on Bucky face, before kissing the smugness away.

“Dad! Harley broke the TV!”

“No, I didn’t! Snitch!”

Tony and Bucky broke apart slowly and Tony chuckled ruefully. “Foiled again.” 

“Yeah. Pause?”

“Pause,” Tony agreed. He nodded to the stairs. “Want me to go?”

“Nah, I got this,” Bucky replied, releasing Tony before jogging up the stairs. 

Tony let his eyes drink in on Bucky’s ass and the way his jeans stretched over it with every step and let out a regretful sigh. But he didn’t linger with his regrets for too long; with every passing day, Bucky was growing more comfortable as a parent and Tony loved watching him become the father he was always supposed to be, and never passed up an opportunity to see him in action. 

And when they were roused at six forty five am the following morning by Elly screaming and throwing herself into their bed, it may have taken a few years off of Tony’s life, but he decided it was worth it for the front row seat of father and daughter laughing together. 

* * *

Bucky breathed in the smell of the burgers on the grill, felt the warmth of the sun on his skin, and grinned as he watched Harley and Elly squealing and splashing each other in the plastic pool he’d brought home the day before. His own shirt had been abandoned after a soaking from the kids and his shorts were sticking to his legs as he leaned back in the deckchair. Normally he tried to keep his arm as covered as possible, lest anyone connected to Hydra was watching. But today, safe in the security of their backyard - and the high fence Tony had put in place to keep out prying eyes - he relaxed.

Footsteps approached behind him from the house and Bucky tipped back his head, recognising them as belonging to Tony and smiling when Tony’s upside-down face appeared. 

“Hey you,” Tony smiled, slipping his hands over Bucky’s shoulders and leaning down to kiss him.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered when Tony pulled back. He ran his fingers over Tony’s wirst, feeling the soft skin beneath the pads of his fingers and feeling Tony’s shiver. “When’s the food gonna be ready?” 

Tony hummed. “Fifteen minutes? Maybe less.”

Bucky nodded, leaning back in his seat until the back of his head brushed Tony’s chest, and watched the kids with a soft smile. 

_I belong here_ , he thought. With Tony and Harley and Elly. This was where he belonged. He made a mental note to write it in his notebook once Tony wasn’t looking. His notebook was almost full. He’d need a new one soon. Technically he could buy a new one himself, but the first one came from Tony so part of Bucky felt like the second one should come from Tony too. Never mind that it was all Bucky’s - or technically, Hydra’s - money they were using to survive. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Tony called, bringing Bucky back to the present. He spotted Harley inching closer, water pistol in hand, with the innocent expression on his face which meant he was up to no good. 

“You know that ain’t gonna stop him,” Bucky murmured, without moving his lips.

“Oh yeah,” Tony replied.

“You might wanna let go of me,” Bucky warned and Tony unlinked his hands from beneath Bucky’s chin. 

Harley drifted closer, trying for nonchalant and missing by a mile, then squirted the water straight at Tony and Bucky. In a flash, Bucky was out of his chair and grabbed a squealing Harley by the waist. He threw Harley onto his shoulder, ignoring his squirming and carried him back towards the pool. 

“Dad! No!” Harley laughed as Bucky held him over the pool, the blood rushing to his face and turning it red from hanging upside-down.

“Tony told you not to shoot at us,” Bucky grinned. 

“Dad!”

Bucky lowered Harley into the water - slowly, he wasn’t about to drop his son headfirst into a four foot deep pool on hard ground - and dropped him when he was a few inches from the ground. Harley emerged, spluttering and laughing and kicked his feet to splash Bucky with water.

Bucky laughed. He slung his arm around Elly’s neck, ruffling his wet hair until it stuck up wildly. “Having a good birthday, kiddo?”

“The best,” she declared. “I’m hungry. When do we eat?”

“I’ll check,” Bucky promised, kissing the top of her head. “Hey,” he called to Tony, stolling back across the grass, which nipped at the soles of his bare feet. “Elly’s asking when the food’s gonna be ready.”

Tony’s face fell for a second, but Bucky caught it. “About fifteen minutes,” Tony said carefully.

Bucky winced. “You told me that already,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for, snowshoe,” Tony replied, his hands cupping Bucky’s elbows. Bucky opened his eyes slowly, his face heating with embarrassment, but Tony was looking at him with understanding. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, but thanks for saying that,” Bucky sighed. “Hey Ell, fifteen minutes,” he called.

Tony slipped an arm around Bucky’s waist. Bucky leaned into his side, closing his eyes when Tony’s lips brushed his temple. 

He had no idea how Tony could be so comforting all the time. Nothing seemed to faze him, whether it was Hydra assassins, Bucky wielding a gun in their living room, or repeating himself sometimes on an hourly basis due to Bucky’s constant lapses in memory. The man was unflappable, it seemed. 

Or so it seemed, until a few days later when Bucky heard a muffled, “Fuck!” coming from the basement. With a frown, Bucky moved through the hall, jogging down the stairs where he found Tony standing on the other side of the room, scrubbing his hands in his hair and glowering at the busted air conditioning unit.

“You okay?” Bucky called.

“What? Yeah, fine,” Tony sighed.

“Can’t you fix it?”

Tony snorted. “I could fix this in my sleep. That’s the problem.”

“Not sure I get why that’s a problem,” Bucky frowned, strolling across the room.

“Because I can fix this thing in my sleep and I can’t do anything more useful than fix a crappy air conditioning unit,” Tony snapped, kicking the wall. He hissed. “And that really hurt.”

Bucky bit back a laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Tony huffed. He sighed, letting his head hang down. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m just… really tired. I built my first engine at five. I went to MIT at fifteen. I built my first suit in a cave from bits of junk. I could tear Hydra apart without breaking a sweat. But I can’t. Because I’m stuck here, because Hydra is a giant bag of dicks and would happily murder two kids just to get to you. And that’s happening over my dead body _which_ is exactly what happens, if I go after Hydra and I am just really, really… gah.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky announced.

Tony heard snapped up as he stared at Bucky in confusion. “I… Huh?”

“I feel like I’m a total mess,” Bucky explained, “And nothing seems to bother you. So hearing you’re just as much of a mess as I am? It’s a relief.” 

Tony nodded, pursing his lips. “Okay, I get that.”

“It’s nice to see I’m not the only one messing up.” Bucky stepped forward, pulling Tony into his arms. “Are we going to be okay?”

Tony pressed their foreheads together and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re gonna be okay.”

* * *

After days of sunshine and warm weather, Tony woke to grey skies and drizzle blurring the view from the windows. Listening carefully, he couldn’t hear any sounds of the children waking yet, so he rolled over, curling into the warmth of Bucky’s body and burying his face into his neck. Bucky mumbled something in what sounded like Russian; his hand fished between them for a moment, before curling around the neck of Tony’s tank top and falling still. Tony smiled, letting his eyes drift closed again and let himself doze until he heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor.

Disentangling himself from Bucky, Tony pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s temple and slipped out of bed. It gave him a little thrill and no small amount of pride to see Bucky remain asleep rather than jerking awake as soon as Tony left the bed. He was slowly regaining himself, and it turned out, Bucky was not a morning person.

Padding through the house to the kitchen, Tony yawned, linking his hands above his head and enjoying the stretch along his spine, smiling when he felt something give a satisfying pop. Mentally, he ran through his to do list for the day; they needed groceries, and Elly was about to wear through her sneakers, so he’d have to take her to get a new pair. And Harley would need new jeans sooner rather than later; he’d shot up two inches without Tony noticing and looked like he was well on his way to gaining his father’s height. He should pick up more hair dye too, Tony thought, pouring himself a mug of coffee and taking a long gulp before readying breakfast. Bucky’s roots were starting to show. 

“Morning,” he greeted Elly as she wandered into the kitchen.

“Is there any pain au chocolat left?” she frowned. 

“Uh, I don’t know. Check the bread bin. Morning,” he called to Harley.

Harley grunted, shuffling straight over to the fridge and pulling out the carton of orange juice. 

“You better not be about to drink from that,” Tony warned as the carton came dangerously close to Harley’s lips. Harley froze, then lowered the carton and retrieved a glass instead. “That’s what I thought,” Tony nodded. “D’you find any?” he asked Elly.

“Yeah, one. Dibs!”

“Alright, alright, sit down. Harley, share that juice with your sister.”

Tony stuck Elly’s pain au chocolat in the oven with the last almond croissant for Bucky before retrieving the bread to make toast for Harley. It was frightening, how easily all this domesticity came to him. While he still had moments where the anger and the frustration and the utter helplessness threatened to overwhelm him like it did that day in the basement a month ago, there were other moments, like now, when the casual domesticity warmed him from the inside, giving him a glimpse into a world he’d never experienced before. 

Bucky stumbled into the room, eyes still closed and possibly working on echolocation, as Tony handed Harley his plate of toast to the slather with Nutella. Bucky fell into his chair, yawning widely, then his arm snaked out and grabbed Tony by the waist, pulling him in so Bucky could bury his face in Tony’s side.

“Warm,” Bucky mumbled into Tony’s hip.

Tony giggled, running his hand through Bucky’s hair. “And good morning to you too, dear.”

Bucky hummed, but reluctantly let Tony go when he moved away. Tony fished the pain au chocolat and the croissant out of the oven, waving his hand through the air to try and cool it because he was too lazy to fetch the tongs to shift the now-hot pastries from the tray onto the plates. He handed the plates over to Bucky and Elly, receiving a kiss of thanks from Bucky, before fetching his coffee and joining them at the table. Instantly, Bucky’s foot hooked around his ankle and Tony smiled.

All his life he’d searched for a sense of belonging. He’d found snatches of it over the years - with Rhodey at college, with Pepper when they dated, with Steve when he visited the Tower, with Ana and Jarvis as a child - but never so much as he did here with Bucky and his children. 

“Can I go watch TV?” Elly asked, already half out of her seat.

“Ah, no!” Tony called. “Didn’t we make some sort of agreement about watching TV just the other day? Refresh my memory.”

“You two made the agreement,” Harley muttered, eyeing Tony and Bucky.

“We agreed, no TV until you two tidy up your bedrooms,” Bucky said, tearing off a piece of croissant and tossing it in his mouth.

“Can’t I tidy up _after_?” Elly pleaded.

“Nope. Sit,” Tony shook his head.

Elly huffed, throwing herself dramatically into the chair. “But dad! I wanna watch the documentary about mummies. And it’s on _now_.”

Tony looked up sharply and stared at Elly. Because she was looking at him, but she said dad. He swallowed, glancing at Bucky, who he found watching him proudly. Bucky nodded encouragingly and Tony hoped his voice wouldn’t shake when he spoke. “I will record the documentary for you, but you are not watching it until I can walk from your bedroom door to your window without breaking my neck.”

“Thank you,” Elly called after him as Tony padded through to the living room.

 _She called me dad_ , he thought, swiping the remote from the couch. His hand shook. Tony’d been thinking of Harley and Elly as his own for weeks now, but only in his own head. After all, they had a father and they - hopefully - still had a mother out there somewhere too. If Steve understood his message and managed to find Hydra before they killed Kimberly Keener.

But Elly not only called him dad, Bucky encouraged it. Tony grinned stupidly to himself, smacking the remote against his hand when it failed to turn on and stabbing the power button again until the little red light blinked.

_“-of chaos this morning in Washington DC as more details are revealed about last night’s events at the agency known as SHIELD. We go live now to Christine Everhart at the scene. Christine, tell us what it’s like down there.”_

The smile slipped from Tony’s face as he took in the images on the screen of the Triskelion, smoking and damaged as the footage switched to a familiar blonde journalist.

“Thank you, Bob,” Christine Everhart said. “Chaos is a pretty good description of what’s going on down here. Obviously, the perimeter is still in place, stopping anyone from getting in or out of the building. Details remain limited, however we are led to believe that SHIELD, the agency founded to carry on the legacy of Captain America in the days following World War Two, was infiltrated by Hydra. For those of you who don’t know, Hydra was the Nazi organisation, Captain America “died” trying to destroy. And until now, it was believed dead. But, like Captain America himself, it seems Hydra did not die during the war and survived, within one of the very agencies sworn to protect us.”

Tony was faintly aware of the plastic of the remote cutting into his fingers. He took a shaky breath. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

“What?” Bucky called, wandering through from the kitchen. Tony glanced up just in time to see the moment when Bucky spotted the images on screen.

“I think he did it,” Tony said shakily. “I think Steve did it.”

Bucky crossed to Tony’s side, wrapping his arm around Tony’s neck and pulling him close. Tony leaned against Bucky’s familiar warmth and they stood there, in silence, watching the footage as more information came in.

Around midmorning, they caught sight of Steve, his face tense and he strode across the street in his stealth suit. Christine Everhart and the other journalists crowded along the barriers all started yelling trying to catch his attention; Steve merely glanced in their direction then disappeared from view again. A while later, there was a flash of red hair and Tony wondered if it was Natasha.

Bucky turned his head, his lips pressing into Tony’s hair.

“And some breaking news,” the Anchor announced, “Coming live from SHIELD. Christine, back to you.”

“Thank you, Bob,” Christine Everhart took over. “Yes, this is breaking news: the Secretary of the World Security Council, Alexander Pierce, died during the take down of Hydra. Details are yet to be confirmed, but the rumour so far is that Secretary Pierce may have been killed by Hydra. Pierce famously turned down a Nobel Peace Prize, stating that ‘ _peace is not an achievement, but a responsibility_ ’. We’re waiting for Deputy Director, Maria Hill, to make a statement in the next few minutes, but in the meantime…”

Bucky’s fingers were digging into Tony’s waist; they’d spasmed when Pierce’s name was first mentioned and he was leaning heavily on the crown of Tony’s head.

“He’s gone?” he whispered, and he sounded so scared, so vulnerable, that Tony wanted to wrap him up and protect him from the world forever. 

“Looks like it,” Tony murmured. “Let’s hear what Hill has to say. She’s good.”

“You trust her?”

“Oh, not at all. But I trust she’s not Hydra.”

Bucky nodded. “Good enough for me.” 

Hill appeared onscreen a few minutes later, looking exhausted and pissed off. But she stepped up to the sea of microphones, illuminated by a wash of camera flashes, and without flinching or breaking eye contact once, calmly and plainly told the world that Alexander Pierce was Hydra.

The journalists erupted. 

Tony’s vision blurred. His legs went weak with relief because it was over. Yes, there would still be Hydra outposts out there. Yes, there was still a lot of work to be done. But Pierce was gone. The man looking for Bucky and his children was gone. Steve did it.

“Do we… We’re gonna have to go back, aren’t we?” Bucky said slowly.

Tony turned to face him, kissing the worry from his brow. “Eventually. Not yet.” And the relief was visible in Bucky’s eyes. “I want to give Steve time to weed out more of Hydra,” Tony added. “Just to be sure.”

“Good,” Bucky breathed. “I’m not sure I’m ready to…”

“Me neither,” Tony smiled. “Still. This is good news.”

“The best,” Bucky grinned and Tony’s heart sang with how much he loved this man.

* * *

Summer shifted into fall and Bucky improved in leaps and bounds now that he no longer had the threat of Hydra hanging over him. Well, not in the same way. He knew there would be other operatives out there, but they would be so busy trying to stay alive, they wouldn’t be worrying about him. Not anymore. Not when they had Captain America on their tail.

Steve.

He was starting to remember Steve slowly. Some things remained blank, and Tony theorised that Bucky would never regain all of his memories because there was probably damage to his brain thanks to the sheer number of mind wipes and periods of cryogenisis, but Bucky was slowly filling the pages of his new notebook with little details of the skinny punk he remembered and trying to figure out how they related to the hero he saw on the news on an almost daily basis these days. 

With Pierce gone and Hydra crumbling, Bucky allowed his attention to turn to another terrifying problem: how to tell Tony that he was in love with him.

He’d started to love Tony early on for all the parts of himself Tony had given him back, whether he realised it or not. But then they started sleeping together and his feelings changed, slowly and all at once, until one day Bucky looked at Tony swearing at the engine of their truck and thought _I love you_ with more conviction than he’d ever felt. 

Then for a second he thought he was going to panic. But there was nothing. Because, Bucky realised, loving Tony wasn’t scary. It was the easiest thing he’d ever done.

Figuring out how to tell him was another story. 

They’d never discussed what they were to each other, if this was a relationship or simply proximity and loneliness. The last thing Bucky wanted to do was confess his feelings only for Tony to point out that he wasn’t looking for that. Sometimes there were moments when Bucky thought he saw Tony looking at him with what could only be described as love, but Tony’s eyes were impossible to read. 

So he decided to bide his time. After all, they weren’t going anywhere, not yet. Neither of them were ready to come out of hiding just yet.

They never suspected the decision would be taken from them.

* * *

“Excuse me, sir.”

Bucky looked up at the security guard who’d materialised by his side. He frowned. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind emptying your pockets, sir?”

“Why?”

“What’s going on?” Tony asked, appearing with the kids in tow. They’d taken them to the mall, confident in their increased freedom in the two months since Pierce died, because Harley continued to grow like a weed and needed new pants again. 

“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to wait over there,” the guard said to Tony.

Tony opened his mouth, ready to object, but Bucky shook his head. “Wait outside. I won’t be long.”

“Alright. Come on guys,” Tony said, guiding Harley and Elly towards the door. His eyes lingered on Bucky and Bucky tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“What’s this about?” he asked the guard once they were alone.

“I’d like you to empty your pockets, please.”

“Sure,” Bucky shrugged. He had his cell phone, wallet, and Elly’s hair clips she’d decided to take out five minutes after they arrived at the mall. Nothing to hide. 

Except for the gun in his ankle holster.

But the guard was only asking about what was in his pockets, so Bucky didn’t feel too guilty. 

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“Thank you sir, and apologise for the inconvenience,” the guard nodded. “It was reported you’d pocketed some items so I had to check.”

“You’re just doing your job,” Bucky assured him, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled. 

Someone falsely accused him of stealing? Why? That made no sense. Unless—

“Dad!”

Bucky sprinted out of the store, fear gripping his heart when he saw Tony being attacked by a man he quickly recognised as working for Hydra.

 _Rumlow_ , his brain supplied distantly. He was one of the one who laughed about making Bucky kill his children. 

The children. 

Bucky looked around frantically until he found Harley and Elly huddling by the entrance to the bookstore next door. Sprinting to their side, Bucky patted them down quickly. “Are you okay? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harley nodded shakily, his eyes fixed on Tony.

Tony.

Bucky’s head snapped around. He didn’t know what to do first; protect his kids or save Tony. But then he looked at Tony, really looked at him, and realised that Tony wasn’t just holding his own.

He was winning.

As scared as he was, Bucky couldn’t help feeling ridiculously proud of Tony as he took Rumlow down and locked him in one of the arm locks Bucky’d taught him in their garden back at the house. Bucky dashed across the floor, grabbing the gun from Rumlow’s hand and flicking on the safety before deciding to remove the bullets for good measure. 

“You okay?” he asked Tony.

“Well, Hydra just tried to kill me so I’ve been better,” Tony shrugged.

“You’re amazing,” Bucky grinned. “Just wanted you to know that.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Soldat,” Rumlow spat, wriggling beneath Tony’s weight. 

“Shut up,” Tony and Bucky snapped. 

Bucky glanced up as the crowds parted for an army of uniformed officers. He and Tony shared a glance and Tony sighed heavily. Bucky nodded then stood up slowly, raising his arms above his head.

“There’s a gun on the ground but it’s secured,” he called out. “I have a concealed handgun on my right ankle.”

“I’m unarmed,” Tony added, getting to his feet and raising his arms. “But I don’t know how many other weapons this guy has.”

“His name’s Rumlow,” Bucky continued. “He’s Hydra.”

“Fuck off! I’m SHIELD! He’s the Winter Soldier!” Rumlow howled. “They attacked me!”

“Shut up,” Tony and Bucky snapped.

“I’m Tony Stark,” Tony added and a ripple ran through the watching crowds. “I’m Iron Man. This man is Hydra.”

The uniformed officers swamped around them, yanking Tony’s hands down and handcuffing him. An officer grabbed Bucky’s first and he fought the urge to lash out.

“Holy shit,” the officer exclaimed when he grabbed Bucky’s left wrist and found metal. “What the fuck?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, figuring it was better to stay silent as long as Rumlow was around. He thought of Steve suddenly, the skinny punk in his mind blending with the hero in the uniform on TV, and hoped Tony was right to believe in him. 

He turned to look for Harley and Elly and found them being held back by yet another officer, her hands on their shoulders as they watched in horror. Bucky tried to give them what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Dad,” Elly whispered as Bucky was led past them.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I love you.”

There were barriers outside the mall, hastily erected to keep the crowds back Bucky realised, as everyone gawked at the officers pulling Bucky and Tony towards the waiting squad cars. He sought out Tony and found him looking back. Their eyes locked for a second, and Bucky knew everything was about to change. 

Then a hand on his head pushed him down and he ducked into the squad car.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony looked up as Steve re-entered the interrogation room. He’d schooled his features into a mask of impassivity probably as soon as he heard the door unlatch, but Steve saw the faintest trace of exhaustion flit across his face. Which meant Tony must be dead on his feet. No wonder, when his forty eight hours in custody were all but up. 

“Well? What’s the verdict, Cap? Am I about to get a fitting for an orange jumpsuit and a one way ticket to Gitmo?” Tony asked, stretching his arms above his head and folding his arms behind his head.

“No. You’re free to go,” Steve replied.

“Really?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Rumlow broke pretty quickly when I went in there. Went nuts, started screaming and spitting in my face. Which, gross.”

“He does not like you. What happened to his face?”

“According to him, I dropped a building on it,” Steve replied. “He was caught in the blast when we took down SHIELD. Literally.”

“So, when you say free to go,” Tony said, “Do you mean all of us?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Only you and the kids,” he grumbled. Tony opened his mouth, but Steve cut him off with, “Don’t. Tony, just don’t. I tried, okay? I tried. But they are not going to let the Winter Soldier just walk out of here.”

“Then try harder,” Tony hissed, leaning across the table.

“I will,” Steve replied, mirroring his posture. “But only when you and those kids are out of here. Because if I push too much, eventually they’re going to remember they have two kids downstairs with Bucky’s DNA. And we’ve seen how far people are willing to go for the serum. I do not want to risk the lives of two innocent kids all because their father is a super soldier. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust anybody,” Tony replied quietly. 

_Except Bucky._

“I’m on your side, Tony,” Steve said, heart pounding. He prayed silently that Tony would believe him. Because if he refused to come back to New York, there was nothing Steve could do to stop him, but he’d feel more confident if he knew Tony and the kids were safe. “Let me help,” he tried. “You must’ve trusted me enough to send me that email from Rhodey’s account. So trust me to keep you— to keep _your kids_ safe.”

Tony studied him carefully, his face giving nothing away. It made Steve’s skin crawl, having such scrutiny turned his way, but he clenched his jaw and sat tight. Eventually, Tony gave a sharp nod and Steve relaxed. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“You better get him back, Rogers,” Tony muttered.

“He’s my best friend,” Steve pointed out. “I’ll never stop fighting for him.”

Tony hummed. “Good.”

Steve led the way downstairs to the soft room. Natasha looked up as they entered and Steve shot her a small smile. She unfolded herself from her chair as he approached and Steve pressed a shaky hand to her back, tucking her head beneath his chin.

It had been a _long_ day.

He glanced across the room at the two children, who lit up at the sight of Tony.

“Tony!” the girl exclaimed, sprinting across the room and burying her face in his chest. 

“Hey, munchkin,” Tony murmured. He pulled the boy in too, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “You two okay?”

The girl - Elly, her name was Elly - nodded and Steve heard Harley mumble, “Dad.”

“It’s okay,” Tony assured them. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are we going home?” Elly asked.

Tony’s eyes flickered to Steve. “We’re going to New York. To my place. No more hiding.”

“But what about our stuff?” Harley frowned.

“I had Clint and Sam go to your place,” Steve added, “Just to make sure nobody crossed any lines while you were gone. I can have them pack everything up and take it back.”

“Sam?” Tony frowned.

“New friend. Good guy.”

Tony nodded slowly. “Sounds good, Cap.”

“What about dad?” Elly asked.

“He’s, uh… He’s gotta stay here for a little bit longer,” Tony explained. “But he’ll come be with us soon.”

Harley and Elly looked unconvinced. They looked scared, Steve noted, and was silently grateful that he and Natasha had agreed kids were not in their future. He didn’t think he could deal with a small human looking up at him with fear and confidently assure them it would all be okay.

Tony took it all in his stride.

“He’ll be fine,” he promised. “Don’t worry.”

“Your mom’s in New York,” Steve added and all three of them turned to him.

“Mom’s alive?” Harley asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s recovering but she’s okay,” Steve replied. “Worried about the two of you.”

“Can we… Can we see dad? Before we go?” Elly asked.

Tony turned questioningly to him and Steve nodded decisively. “Yes.” And if anyone objected, they would get the Captain America _“Son, don’t.”_

(It was ridiculous how well that worked with anyone official. From SHIELD agents to the traffic cop who tried to give him a speeding ticket, Steve was not ashamed to admit he was willing to use his position to his advantage.)

“Come on then,” Tony said, chivvying the kids into action. “Get your coats. Elly, where are your shoes? Seriously, kid. I’m gonna glue them to your feet one of these days.”

As the kids picked up their belongings, Steve pulled Tony aside. “Listen,” he murmured, “They’ve been pumping him with sedatives but the serum keeps burning through them. So he might be kind of out of it.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Tony nodded. “You two done? Alright, let’s move out.”

When they entered the holding cell and Steve saw Bucky, his eyes unfocused and his hands restrained, fury burned in his veins. It was only Natasha’s grip on his wrist which anchored him and stopped him from yelling at the Canadian authorities who’d insisted on locking Bucky up until the CIA or whoever could get here and take him away.

 _Think of the kids_ , Steve reminded himself. _Get them and Tony out of here and then you can rain down hell on these people._

Despite being doped up, Bucky managed a smile - albeit a sloppy one - as soon as he saw Tony and the kids. “Hey,” he slurred. “Missed you guys.”

“Dad…” Elly frowned.

“They’re letting us go,” Tony explained, his voice tight. “I’m letting the star spangled one take us back to New York.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Good. Don’t want you on your own.”

Elly stepped forward, carefully wrapping her arms around Bucky’s neck, and whispered, “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too,” Bucky replied, turning his face into her hair. “Be good. Don’t bug your brother too much.”

“I only bug him when he bugs me,” she sniffed. “It’s not my fault he bugs me all the time.”

Steve noticed Tony chuckle, but his eyes were shining. Steve turned to glare at the officers and agents lining the walls, making his displeasure clear. Clint told him to use the _Captain America is disappointed_ face; he’d passed that point hours ago. Now it was the _Captain America is pissed off_ face. 

“Love you, angel,” Bucky murmured, kissing Elly’s head.

Then she stepped back, turning expectantly to Harley. But Harley’s head hung low and he glared at the floor, scuffing the floor with the toe of his sneaker.

“Hey,” Bucky called softly. “Hey, _mon petit caneton_. C’mere.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Harley shuffled forward. His face twisted; clearly he had something to say, and Bucky didn’t push him. He just watched his son expectantly.

His son.

It hit Steve hard to realise that Bucky was a father, he had kids and - once upon a time - made a family. And then Hydra came along and destroyed it again and again.

Finally, Harley muttered, “I just got you back.”

“I know,” Bucky replied, his voice cracking and Steve noticed Tony blinking furiously. “I know, kid. I’m sorry.”

Harley stepped forward. “It’s not your fault.”

Clearly there was some significance to his words, although Steve didn’t understand what it was, from the way both Bucky and Tony stared at Harley with a mixture of surprise and pride and love.

“Be good,” Bucky whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too, dad,” Harley replied, leaning in and squeezing Bucky tightly.

Steve cleared his throat as subtly as possible, trying to dislodge the lump which had taken up residence there. Natasha caught his eye; Steve tangled their fingers together and held on tight.

Then it was Tony’s turn.

There was no hesitance on his part. He stepped straight into Bucky’s space, wrapping his arms around him and pressing their foreheads together.

“Hey, you,” Bucky slurred.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tony whispered. “You doing okay?”

“Better now. I’m tired.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you look sleepy,” Tony murmured, brushing his hands through Bucky’s blond hair. “Now, you play nice with the other kids, don’t let them steal your lunch money, and anyone who wants to be your friend on the first day is just using you. Okay?”

“Thanks for the advice,” Bucky smiled.

Tony pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead, letting them linger, and Steve felt like they were intruding on something private. He dropped his gaze, turning his glare on anyone who continued to watch them say their goodbyes.

“I’ll see you soon,” he heard Tony whisper.

“Yeah. Hope so.”

“I know so.”

Steve risked a glance, and saw them exchange a soft kiss. Then Tony pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead one last time and stepped back. Bucky swayed forward and he would’ve fallen, were it not for Tony’s hands steadying him. 

With a hand on either child’s shoulder, Tony guided them towards the door. His eyes were red rimmed and his voice hoarse when he looked up at Steve and said, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” His own voice was maybe a little hoarse too. He squeezed Natasha’s hand again, relieved when she squeezed back, before letting go and leading Tony and the kids out of the room. He mourned the loss of her palm against his. 

Glancing at Bucky one last time, Steve found Bucky staring at him.

He swallowed.

“Look after them,” Bucky ordered, his voice slurring as he fought to stay awake.

“With my life,” Steve promised.

Bucky nodded. “Good.”

Steve’s nails bit into his palms as he tried to stop himself from breaking Bucky out and reminded himself, _Think of the kids. Get them and Tony out of here and then you can rain down hell on these people._

With one last look at Bucky, Steve left the room, ignoring everything screaming at him to turn around and take Bucky with him. 

By the time he stepped onto the quinjet, Tony was strapped in with Harley and Elly on either side of him. Elly was snuggled into his side, and Tony’s hand ran through her hair slowly, his face twisted, as though he was fighting to keep it together. Steve reached out, squeezing his shoulder as he passed, and Tony gave him a grateful look before burying his face into Harley’s hair.

Natasha was waiting in the cockpit, pre-flight check complete. “I figured you’d want to take this one,” she murmured.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Precious cargo.” 

Before Natasha could shift to the co-pilot’s seat, Steve caught her wrist and drew her in for a kiss. He poured everything into the kiss, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t, because it kept catching in a lump in his throat. Natasha’s hand stroked his cheek, her fingers drifting over his jaw and Steve felt himself relax a little.

She always knew exactly what he was trying to say, even without words.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Natasha smiled. “I love you too. Let’s go home.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Home.”

* * *

Returning to the Tower felt… strange. 

It should’ve been a homecoming, but it was wrong because one of them didn’t come home. Which didn’t make sense either, because even before all of this, Bucky’d never set foot in the Tower. Maybe it was the adrenaline crash, the fear of leaving Bucky behind, the cocktail of emotions which had swirled in his gut for the past two days since he realised he was being followed in the mall. But Tony felt… off. Discombobulated. Wrong-footed somehow. 

It was confusing and unsettling and part of him wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. 

Instead, Tony ushered Harley and Elly off of the quinjet and into the elevator to the penthouse with Steve’s voice ringing in his ears; _if you need anything, just call me_. 

Tony promised he would while knowing he wouldn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Steve - on the contrary, Steve was one of the few people Tony trusted had no connection to Hydra - but he wanted his family tonight. But since Bucky wasn’t here, he would make do on his own.

“Here we go,” Tony announced pointlessly as the doors slipped open.

“Welcome home, sir,” a familiar voice announced.

“Hey JARVIS,” Tony smiled. “Override eight six one, two seven seven.”

“Lockdown disengaged.”

“Who’s that?” Elly asked.

“That’s JARVIS,” Tony explained, steering them towards the stairs. “He’s my AI. He runs the Tower, so if you need anything, just ask him.”

“It will be my pleasure to help,” JARVIS agreed. 

“Okay, I have three guest rooms,” Tony sighed. “Take your pick.”

“Which one’s the biggest?” Elly asked. 

“That one.”

“Dibs!” Harley called, dancing out of reach of his sister and Tony managed a tired smile at Elly’s indignant expression. He hoped it wouldn’t result in an argument, but Elly just huffed and accepted the second largest bedroom with something akin to good grace. 

Once he was sure they were settled and JARVIS informed him that both Harley and Elly were asleep, Tony trudged up the stairs to the top floor of the penthouse. He headed straight through his closet to the bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he walked and leaving a trail on the floor until he reached the bathroom naked. 

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Tony realised he looked old. In Canada, he’d never noticed, because it was just how he’d always looked there. But here, he looked old. 

Tony pulled off the cheap dollar store glasses and sat them carefully on the vanity. Instead of asking JARVIS to turn on the shower, he simply stepped in and turned on the water, lingering by the edge of the cubicle until the water warmed up. Stepping beneath it, Tony closed his eyes and hung his head, content for a moment to just stand there and let the water wash over him. Here, he didn’t have to worry about limited hot water or intermittent water pressure. 

With a groan, he pushed his hair from his face, slicking it back before reaching for the soap. He hesitated for a moment; if he used this soap, he would no longer smell like Bucky. They’d shared the same supermarket own-brand soap for months and it was stupid, but Tony had grown accustomed to smelling like Bucky. 

Tony’s lip trembled. His hand closed into a fist, pressing painfully into his forehead, and a sob punched its way free from his chest. He pressed his fist to his lips to muffle his tears, even as a voice in his head taunted him, reminding him that there was no one to hear him here.

“Shit,” he whispered, drawing a shuddering breath. “You’re supposed to be here. Don’t you dare make me do this on my own. Don’t you dare.”

Eventually, Tony climbed out of the shower, drying himself off with a too-soft towel and retrieving a clean pair of pyjama pants which didn’t come to his ankles before padding through to the bedroom. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at the California King which looked far too big for one person. Then he turned to the windows, scanning the skyline and trying to ignore the creeping feeling of unease at being so far above the ground. 

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Tony muttered. “Hydra’s not coming after you anymore.”

But the feeling continued crawling along his spine until Tony admitted defeat and went down to the armoury, picking up a gun and his repulsor prototype before making his way back upstairs. Tony stuck his head into Harley and Elly’s rooms on the way back upstairs, fastening the clasp on his watch as he padded into his own bedroom. He lifted the pillow, dropping the gun onto the mattress before dropping the pillow again and lay down, and tried not to stare at the empty space opposite him where Bucky should be.

* * *

Returning home was not as simple as it seemed. 

After spending almost six months on the run with the constant threat of Hydra assassins in the back of his mind, the thought of relaxing and just going back to the way things used to be was enough for Tony’s heart to start pounding and his hand to reach for his gun. He realised his belief that they’d relaxed since the fall of Hydra was foolish; he wasn’t relaxed, he was terrified. He kept at least one gun on him at all times even though he and the kids were yet to leave the penthouse. Mostly because Tony didn’t trust the world enough to leave the penthouse. 

He also didn’t allow the world into the penthouse.

He allowed Steve access, because he trusted Steve and he needed to work with him to find out how Bucky was doing. And Steve didn’t flinch when Tony pulled a knife because he heard a bang from the TV in the other room.

And Rhodey was allowed in, because he was Rhodey. Tony would never not trust Rhodey. The thought was incomprehensible. Still, his pulse picked up the first time Rhodey stepped out of the elevator, until Rhodey fixed him with an unimpressed glare and said, “What are you doing all the way over there? Come here and give me a hug.” Rhodey was the only one Tony trusted to touch him. 

So he had Steve and he had Rhodey. It was enough. 

At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. 

The reality… was a little different. 

The paranoia kept him awake most nights. The voice in his head kept reminding him of the danger of living at the top of a Tower; there were no easy escapes. So he moved a suit up to the penthouse just in case, but it didn’t help. If anything, it felt like he was getting worse. And Tony could see the effect his paranoia had on Harley and Elly but his need to protect them from the outside world was stronger than his need to protect them from himself.

Until it all came to a head.

“Morning,” he called as Elly and Harley shuffled into the kitchen.

“What’s for breakfast?” Harley asked. 

“Uhh, you want toast?”

Elly pulled a face. “I want eggs.”

“We don’t have any eggs,” Tony replied. They didn’t have much of anything. He refused to allow their food to be delivered, but he hated the thought of going out himself which meant bare cupboards. He knew he’d have to venture out soon, but not today. 

“I’m bored of toast,” Elly glared. “I want eggs.”

“Well, we don’t have eggs,” Tony repeated patiently.

“Can’t we go out for breakfast?” Harley asked, leaning against the windows and staring down at the city below. Tony fought the urge to tell him to get away from the windows in case of snipers. “We’re in New York. There’s loads of places we can eat. And get eggs.”

“Yeah,” Elly chimed in.

It took everything Tony had not to snap _No_. Of course they couldn’t go out. There were people out there, any number of them looking for ways to harm them. He exhaled a shaky breath. 

“JARVIS, do they have eggs downstairs?” he asked instead.

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Let’s go downstairs. We can have breakfast there,” Tony suggested, hoping the promise of eggs would be enough of a compromise to keep them happy.

Tony’s knee bounced as they rode down to the communal kitchen in the elevator. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but it was difficult when it felt like the walls of the elevator were closing in around him. He flinched at the ping announcing their arrival at the eight first floor, the butterflies turning into elephants in his gut as the doors slid open. 

“Come on,” he told Harley and Elly with false optimism. “Let’s get you guys some eggs.”

The kitchen was blissfully quiet when they entered, empty save for Bruce who was sitting at the table reading something on his tablet while milk dripped off of his forgotten spoon of Fruit Loops.

“Morning,” Tony called.

Bruce started, blinking at them for a moment before smiling. “Tony. Hey. Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” he nodded, guiding Elly and Harley to the table. “Guys, this is Bruce. Bruce, meet Harley and Elly.”

“Hi,” Bruce nodded.

“Hello,” Elly said quietly while Harley remained silent, both of them watching Bruce with wide eyes bordering on fearful. Perhaps they weren’t as ready to leave the penthouse as they’d pretended only minutes ago. Tony only hoped Bruce wouldn’t take it personally.

“Okay. Eggs,” Tony declared, moving into the kitchen and began gathering everything he needed. 

He hoped the familiar routine of making breakfast would calm his jumpy nerves, silencing the itch beneath his skin screaming _Danger! Danger!_

Unfortunately it didn’t. 

He heard Clint coming, that wasn’t the problem.

(For someone who was a spy, Clint was terrible at being subtle when he wasn’t working. And even sometimes when he was.)

The problem was when Clint said, “Hey man, long time no see,” and clapped his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony’s instincts, already on high alert, flared and in a flash he had Clint’s arm locked, pressing his gun into Clint’s temple.

“Tony!” Steve’s voice called out. “It’s okay.”

“It’s okay, man,” Clint murmured. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His brain caught up with his instincts and Tony realised with horror what he’d just done. He was pointing a gun at Clint in front of half the team - Steve and Natasha were by the door, he realised - and his kids.

“Shit,” Tony hissed. He released Clint, flicking the safety back onto his gun and shoving it back into his waistband, breathing heavily. His heart was pounding in his ears and his eyes stung. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Clint replied. “Totally my fault. That was a dumb move.”

Part of him appreciated Clint trying to take the blame, but it wasn’t enough to stop the guilt swimming in Tony’s veins. He forced a smile and he knew it looked odd but everyone was staring at him and it was the best he could do. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” he suggested to Harley and Elly.

They nodded instantly, darting out of their seats and lingering by the door to wait for him.

“Can I help you with that?” Steve offered and the sincerity and understanding in his eyes made Tony’s throat burn. 

He nodded, unable to speak, and Steve took the plate of eggs, which was probably for the best, considering how much Tony’s hands were shaking. Ducking his head, he left the kitchen, a hand on each of Harley and Elly’s shoulders to guide them towards the elevator.

The ride back to the penthouse was filled with a thick silence. Part of him said he should say something to reassure the kids but Tony couldn’t do it. He couldn’t think of anything to say. It was taking everything he had not to fall apart in front of them and they deserved better. They deserved so much better than him.

“Steve and I are going to talk,” Tony said once Harley and Elly were seated at the kitchen table, a plate of eggs each. “If you need me, just ask JARVIS, okay?”

“Okay,” Harley echoed.

Tony could feel their eyes on him as he left the room, Steve trailing behind, and tried not to run. He led the way to his office, walking straight up to the desk and leaning heavily on it. His shoulders began to shake as it all began to overwhelm him. Distantly, he heard Steve close the door behind them.

“Tony.”

Tony raised his head but looking into Steve’s eyes, filled with compassion and sorrow and understanding, was too much. He turned away, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

“Did you miss the part where I almost shot Barton?” Tony snapped, burning with shame. He leaned against Steve’s shoulder, a shudder running through him when Steve’s arms came up to hold him. “I can’t do this,” Tony gasped. “I can’t… It’s like coming back from Afghanistan but it’s worse, it’s so much worse.”

Steve tightened his grip on him and it was comforting but somehow the fact it was comforting made it ten times worse. His chest heaving, Tony couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face now even if he’d wanted to. And Steve, Steve just held him, irrespective of the tears and snot coming from him and Tony thought he might love Steve Rogers a little bit for it.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered when Tony’s sobs fell to sniffles.

“What are you sorry for?” 

“Not doing my job properly. If I’d gotten rid of Hydra like I was supposed to, you never would’ve had to go through all of this. Either of you.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony glanced up at Steve. “Hydra are dicks.”

Steve let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah. They are. They really are.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Rogers,” Tony sighed. Then, with a smile, “That’s what you have Nat for.”

“Yeah, but that beating up is fun,” Steve teased. “This? Not so much.”

“Okay, I changed my mind. I don’t want you thinking about your sex life while your arms are around me.” Tony eased away from Steve, coming back to himself enough to start feeling embarrassed. “Guess this is just going to take some time,” he mused, pulling a tissue from the box on his desk to try and wipe down his face. Like everything in the room, it was covered with a film of dust from being abandoned for six months. 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded.

“Shit,” Tony sighed.

“It definitely is,” Steve agreed.

Tony studied him carefully, leaning against the edge of his desk. “You’re okay, Rogers,” he said eventually. 

“Thanks,” Steve replied dryly. Then, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Thanks,” Tony echoed.

Steve shifted, leaning against the desk next to him, their shoulders brushing.

“I hate this,” Tony muttered, wiping the residue from beneath his eyes. “I hate it so much. And I hate what it’s doing to those kids. Maybe they’d be better off without me.”

“No way,” Steve replied. His voice was quiet but his tone brokered no argument. “I don’t know a lot about being a parent, but I know you’re a good one.”

“I’m just making this up as I go along.” 

Steve shrugged. “Isn’t everyone?”

“Guess so,” Tony smiled. “Thanks.”

“I’m here for you, Tony,” Steve said. “Both of you. I’m not giving up until I bring him home.”

Tony nodded. “I know.” He sighed, letting his head fall onto Steve’s shoulder. He might not be the supersoldier Tony wanted, but he was better than nothing.

* * *

Of all the things Tony didn’t want to do, facing the woman with whom Bucky built a family was right up there. He’d been caught in a love triangle in the past and he had no desire to be again. While he remained… reasonably confident that Bucky had no residual feelings for Kimberly, Tony couldn’t say the same for Kimberly herself.

And what happened if Bucky was released and he saw Kimberly with their children again? His mind was running away with the possibilities and none of them good, leaving Tony a nervous wreck as he waited for the elevator to arrive at the penthouse with the fresh-from-hospital Kimberly Keener.

The ping cut out through the silence of the penthouse like a knife and Tony swallowed as the doors opened, plastering on what passed for his attempt at a press smile these days. The doors opened, revealing Steve, and by his side a blonde woman about Tony’s own height with eyes he recognised from the pre-teen boy upstairs.

“Hi,” Tony greeted.

“Hello,” Kimberly Keener nodded. She had a faint accent, he noted.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Steve said, reaching for the down button on the elevator. Tony nodded, even though part of him wanted to say _no, come back, stay here please!_ Steve shot him a reassuring smile and left Tony wondering yet again about the possibility that the serum may have given Steve telepathic powers. 

But then he recalled how Steve missed the blatant flirting Natasha was throwing his way when they went for shawarma and dismissed the idea.

“Come in,” he told Kimberly. “Oh, uh, sorry. Tony.” He stuck out his hand.

“Esme,” she replied, shaking his hand. Tony blinked and her mouth curved into a smile. “I changed it when we went into hiding.”

“Of course you did,” Tony nodded, leading the way across the room and sitting on the first couch. Kimberly - no, Esme - sat down opposite him. “Esme.”

“Esme Duval,” she explained. “Abraham Erskine was my grandfather. I started to research him when I came to America for college and Hydra figured out who I was.”

“They sent Bucky after you,” Tony realised. 

She nodded. “And instead, we ran.” She smiled. “He was so sweet. Confused and scared, but sweet.”

“Do you love him?” Tony asked around the lump in his throat. 

“He’s the father of my children,” Esme replied. “I’ll always love him. But we were kids, we were in love with the idea of being in love. And when you put your lives in each other’s hands, it’s easy to see something that isn’t there.”

Tony nodded slowly, swallowing his nausea. He clenched and unclenched his fists where they rested in his knees, avoiding eye contact. Pushing his fears to the back of his mind, Tony forced a smile. “Are you ready to see them?”

“I was ready the minute Captain Rogers pulled me out of that cell,” she smiled. 

“Okay,” Tony nodded. “Uh, JARVIS, can you send the terrible twosome down, thanks?”

“Of course, sir.”

“So what’s your plans?” Tony asked as they waited. 

“First of all, I’m going back to France to visit my parents,” Esme explained. “Then I’m-”

“Mom!”

Harley raced across the room and threw himself at Esme, who laughed even as his weight pushed her back into the cushions. Elly squealed and sprinted after her brother, piling on top of him and their mother. Tony smiled and wished Bucky was here to see their kids light up at the sight of Esme. 

No. Not their kids. Tony had no claim to them. Not really. After all, he was just a stranger who stumbled across their garage less than a year ago. If he hadn’t met Harley that night, he wouldn’t know they existed. Would Bucky have found them in time, Tony wondered, and saved them from Hydra alone? Would Hydra have found them at all without Tony? Maybe not. 

Was this his fault?

Tony shifted uncomfortably.

“I missed you so much,” Harley exclaimed, his voice muffled by Esme’s shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” she replied, kissing their foreheads. “How much did you two grow?”

“Too much,” Tony joked. “I said we should stop watering them.”

“Look at you both,” Esme grinned. 

“Are we going home?” Elly asked, kneeling on the couch. Tony’s heart jumped to his throat. He watched Esme, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for her answer. 

“No,” Esme shook her head, smoothing Elly’s hair back from her face. “We’re not going back to Tennessee.”

The question of where they would go was on the tip of his tongue, but Tony forced it back. If the choice was between having his heart broken now or later, he chose to live in blissful ignorance while he could. He knew he was going to lose Harley and Elly eventually. But he would prefer if it was later rather than sooner. 

“Why don’t I give you three some privacy?” Tony suggested, climbing to his feet and definitely not running towards the stairs. “Give you time to catch up.”

He jogged up the stairs to his bedroom, trying not to wince even though hearing the laughter floating up from below was like a knife to the heart. 

Safely ensconced in his room, Tony pulled out his cell phone and fired off a message to Rhodey asking _Are you busy?_

Seconds later, his phone rang, Rhodey’s picture appearing on the screen. Tony smiled gratefully.

“Hey sugar plum,” he greeted.

“What’s up?” Rhodey asked.

“Uh, nothing,” Tony shrugged, collapsing into the armchair by the windows. He spun the chair around, staring out at the city below. It still made his skin crawl at times, being so far above the city.

“Tony. Don’t bullshit me.”

“Saw through that, huh?” Tony sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand. 

“Like that cheap t-shirt you used to wear clubbing. What’s going on?”

“Esme Duval, aka Kimberly Keener, aka Bucky’s ex and the kids’ mom is downstairs talking to Harley and Elly,” he revealed. “And I… I may be freaking out. A little.”

“Is Steve there?” Rhodey asked.

“He’s downstairs. I don’t want to burden him. Not any more” Tony frowned. “He’s already fighting with Fury, trying to get Bucky released. He has enough to deal with.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Rhodey pointed out.

“Well, I mind,” Tony snapped. He winced. “Sorry. It’s just, I spent six months with only one person I knew I could trust.” He tapped his fist against the arm of the chair. “It’s a difficult habit to break.”

“Tony, are you taking care of yourself?” Rhodey asked and Tony could hear the frown in his voice. 

“Um… Kind of?” Tony admitted. He took a shaky breath, squeezing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “It’s just a little hard right now.”

There was a pause, then Rhodey said, “Okay, now I _know_ you’re not doing okay, because you let that pass without one innuendo.” 

Tony managed a small smile. “You’re right. I’m letting the side down.”

“Big time. Listen, Tony, I have to go, but we’ll talk soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, no, go. It’s fine,” Tony insisted, lying through his teeth. “Talk soon.”

After he hung up, Tony scrolled through the photos on his phone. He’d transferred all the pictures they’d taken with the digital camera in Canada onto his phone when they returned to the Tower. Tony scrolled through them until he found the one he was looking for; he and Bucky on Elly’s birthday. He had his arm slung around Bucky’s neck and they stood in front of the grill. Bucky was bare chested, his arm and scars on full display, and his blond head was leaning towards Tony. And they were both grinning at the camera and looked completely carefree.

Tony smiled, running his finger over the outline of their faces. 

“Hey JARVIS? Can you get me a print out of this picture?” Tony asked.

“Of course, sir.”

Tony lost himself in the photos, asking JARVIS to add some to the list to print out, then he started shopping online for photo frames; a thing he’d never really needed before, because he didn’t really _have_ many photos to frame. There was the one of him with Pepper in Monaco, and one of his thirteen year old self with Ana Jarvis, and the one from the Halloween at college when he and Rhodey dressed as Kirk and Spock, thinking they were so cool when in reality they looked like dorks. Other than that, he didn’t really do photos. There wasn’t anything he wanted to remember.

That had changed.

Tony hesitated. 

“Hey JARVIS, do we have a copy of that photo from after New York?” he asked. “The one at shawarma?”

“Is this the one you mean, sir?” JARVIS asked, bringing up the picture in question on his phone.

Tony smiled. “Yeah, that’s it.”

It was taken by an awestruck employee at the shawarma restaurant he and the rest of the Avengers had trudged into after the Battle of New York. They were tired and dirty, Steve looked half asleep, Natasha and Clint were looking at each other rather than the camera, Bruce’s clothes didn’t fit because they weren’t technically his, Tony’s own grin looked more like a wince, and Thor beamed at the camera in the centre of the group. They looked awkward with their arms around each other, the spaces visible between them, but there was something endearing about it despite that.

“Add this to the list too,” Tony said. 

“Of course, sir.”

When his stomach began to grumble, Tony heaved himself out of the chair and padded towards the stairs. He tried to fight off the heaviness which threatened to return to his heart as he made his way downstairs, the thought of seeing Harley and Elly with their mother again reminding him of how temporary this whole situation was.

Still, he couldn’t help smiling when he heard the sound of laughter coming from the den. That was one thing he and Bucky had never been able to give Harley and Elly while they were on the run: the chance to fully relax and enjoy themselves. At least when they left with Esme, they wouldn’t have to worry about being hunted anymore. 

“Knock knock,” Tony called, stepping into the den, where he found mother and children sprawled across one of the large couches. “I was thinking about making some dinner. Are you staying or…?”

“As long as I’m not intruding,” Esme replied.

“Of course not,” Tony lied. “I’ll go get started.”

He’d no sooner arrived in the kitchen when Esme followed him into the room.

“Tony, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” she began.

“Oh. Okay,” he frowned, pulling out a chopping board. “Shoot. Not literally.”

“It’s about Harley and Elly,” she explained. “I have a lot of recovery to do. Not just physically; I spent the last thirteen years on the run from Hydra. I abandoned my family and my studies and my career plans.”

“I can’t imagine what that’s like,” Tony murmured. “I spent six months pretending to be someone else and that was…”

“Exactly,” Esme nodded. “I was twenty one when I ran. I don’t know who I am, who I really am. But I’d like the chance to figure it out. Which is why I wondered how you’d feel about sharing custody with me.”

Tony stared at her, unblinking, as it took a second for Esme’s words to sink in. “You want to share custody?” he echoed. “What exactly do you mean by that? I get them once a month or when you need a babysitter?”

“No, I was thinking they would stay with you,” she corrected. “As I said, I have a lot to figure out. I want to go to therapy and then I’d like to go back to college and finish my degree. I still need to find a place in the city, and I mentioned I want to go visit my parents. But I already have a job offer here and I think I’d like to take it.”

“A job offer?”

“Your Director Fury offered me a liaison position,” Esme smiled. “I figured it would be a good way to stay near the children. I assume when Captain Rogers manages to get James out, he’ll be coming here.”

“Yeah,” Tony replied. Even if Bucky wasn’t coming right here, to the Penthouse, he would be in the Tower, living in Steve and Natasha’s apartment or his own. At least in the beginning. 

“And the truth is, I think we both know Harley and Elly would be safer here than anywhere,” Esme continued. “And they’re happy.”

“They are?” Tony asked before he could stop himself.

Esme nodded. “You’re a good father to them.”

Tony looked away, uncomfortable with the implication. When they were on the run, it was easy to be their father, because they only had one parent - Bucky - and Tony had no qualms about filling the void left in Harley and Elly’s lives. But now they had their mother back, and Bucky would be released eventually; they had no _need_ for Tony any more. 

“Unless… you don’t want that?” Esme frowned.

“I do,” Tony replied quickly. “I do. I just… don’t want to intrude somewhere I’m not wanted.”

“Tony.” Esme fixed him with a sharp look, one which reminded him of Bucky. “I’m telling you that I want to do this _with_ you. I survived on my own for all those years because I had no choice. But it’s not how I want to raise my children. I want them to grow up surrounded by people who love them, and you love them. So. What do you say?”

“I say you’re a very determined woman,” Tony smiled. “Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.”

“You would do well to remember that,” Esme grinned.

“Yes. I say yes,” Tony replied. “We can get the lawyers in, have them hash out the specifics, but yes. I am… more than happy to co-parent with you.”

“Good,” Esme nodded. “I only want what’s best for my children. And it’s clear that you are very good for them.”

“Thank you,” Tony murmured.

She smiled, adding, “You’re welcome,” before leaving the kitchen.

When he heard Esme return to the den and the children, Tony put down the knife and leaned heavily against the counter. He was shaking, he realised, and blinked when he felt the dampness sneaking into the corners of his eyes. Biting his lip, he let out a sigh of relief.

Harley and Elly were staying with him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to whoever was listening. “Thank you for giving me this much.” 

* * *

Esme left a few hours later, after Elly had fallen asleep against Tony’s shoulder and Harley’s eyelids kept drifting shut before he shook himself awake again, both exhausted from the excitement of seeing their mother again. Tony said goodbye with a genuine smile on his face, discovering that once he knew she wasn’t going to steal his - no, their - children away from him, Esme Duvall had a dry wit and sharp tongue to rival his own. He liked her.

No wonder Bucky loved her.

Tony’s heart seized, tucking Elly in and smoothing her hair back from her face. Because now that he was alone, there was the Other Thing he’d been studiously ignoring since his first conversation with Esme earlier in the day.

_And when you put your lives in each other’s hands, it’s easy to see something that isn’t there._

Tony picked up the top photo from the pile of prints JARVIS had organised while they were busy with dinner and stared at his and Bucky’s smiling faces. He flicked through the photos, stopping on another from the same day.

He had his mouth against Bucky’s neck, although he was smiling too widely for it to be considered much of a kiss, and his arms wrapped around Bucky’s waist. Bucky had his head thrown back as he laughed, his flesh and bone arm around Tony’s neck.

They looked happy.

They looked in love.

Was it all a lie? Was it just proximity and lust mixed together with a healthy dose of fear and codependence masquerading as love? They’d never said I love you. Tony’d wanted to, more than once, but he never knew how to say it. Which in retrospect was stupid, because it was so simple.

Three little words.

I love you.

However, maybe it was a good thing he’d kept his feelings to himself. Maybe it was for the best. After all, it would’ve made things uncomfortably awkward for Harley and Elly if Bucky hadn’t returned Tony’s feelings and all four of them were stuck together. It would’ve been unfair. On everyone. 

It was better this way.

At least, that was what he tried to tell himself.

But if it was better, why did it feel like his heart was breaking?

* * *

The following day, Tony was awake with the dawn as usual. He was perched at the table in the kitchen, mug of coffee and tablet in hand, when JARVIS announced, “Sir, you have a visitor.”

“I do?” Tony frowned, leaving the table. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open as he emerged from the kitchen.

Then Rhodey stepped into the penthouse and Tony’s jaw dropped.

“What… What are you doing here?” Tony frowned.

Rhodey shrugged. “Took some emergency leave.” 

“But, what did you tell the Air Force?”

“The truth.” Rhodey dropped his bags and crossed the room. “That my family needed me.”

“Dammit,” Tony muttered, tears welling in his eyes. He stumbled forward into Rhodey’s waiting arms and buried his face in his neck. 

“I’ve got you,” Rhodey murmured. “I’ve got you, Tony.”

* * *

With Rhodey around, things became a little easier. They were still a long way from being easy, but they were easier. Tony no longer felt quite so alone with Rhodey living in the guest bedroom and teasing him over breakfast and conspiring with the kids against him. It wasn’t like being with Bucky, but it was better. 

It was a start.

Esme came by regularly and Tony found himself growing closer to her with every visit, until he started redesigning one of the empty apartments downstairs for her if she decided she wanted it. It would certainly make things easier for the kids, having their mom living right downstairs.

Harley’s birthday was coming up so Tony and Esme threw themselves into planning, determined to make it as special as they could considering the circumstances. Tony offered to fly his friends from Tennessee out for the occasion but Harley just shook his head.

It broke Tony’s heart to see Harley curl in on himself. The boy who, six months ago, could barely stand to be in the same room as his father now missed him more than anything. Harley wouldn’t truly settle into this new life until Bucky was a part of it. 

But Bucky wasn’t here. And despite the growing circles under Steve’s eyes and the way his lips pinched whenever he spoke about his attempts to get Bucky released. He’d recruited Sharon Carter and a pair of lawyers named Murdock and Nelson to the cause and would fight night and day if it wasn’t for Nat threatening to kick his ass if he didn’t get some sleep.

Still, Tony was determined to do what he could to make it a special day for Harley, even though he knew nothing could make up for the fact Bucky wasn’t here. And it felt good to have a project again. 

“Morning birthday boy,” Tony grinned when Harley trudged into the kitchen. He clutched at his shirt dramatically, making Rhodey roll his eyes. “My little boy, all grown up!”

“Going for the Oscar there, Stark?” Esme teased, following Harley into the room. She’d agreed to move in, at least temporarily, to the Tower. Tony liked having her around. Rhodey was great, but he wasn’t a parent. He didn’t understand the delicate balance of loving your children and being willing to do anything to make them shut up for five minutes.

“If you’re going to do something, you might as well do it right,” he grinned. “What do you want for breakfast, kid? Your choice.”

“I don’t mind,” Harley mumbled.

“Come on, honey,” Esme said. “Do you want waffles? You love waffles.”

“I can do waffles,” Tony nodded.

“Sure, whatever,” Harley shrugged.

Tony kept his smile in place, but internally his heart broke a little more. Clapping his hands together, he announced, “Waffles, coming right up!”

Harley brightened up a little when they joined the rest of the Avengers for his party, mostly due to Clint’s trick shots which included shooting an apple off of Thor’s head. 

“We should start hiring them out for kids parties,” Rhodey joked, joining Tony by the snack table. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Tony mused. “A little side revenue never hurt anyone.”

Except for that time it resulted in his spending his summer vacation in a cave.

Tony shook his head, physically forcing the thoughts from his brain and turning his attention to where Elly and Natasha seemed to be bonding on the other side of the room. Natasha was either teaching her how to dance or how to strangle a man with her calves. Either way, Elly looked like she was having fun. And it was good to see her smile again.

“He misses his father,” Rhodey observed, watching Harley messing around with Clint and Thor. 

“He’s not the only one,” Tony murmured. When Rhodey glanced towards him, Tony gave him a tired smile. 

“So you’re still not sleeping then. I assume when Rogers brings Barnes home, we’ll be hearing wedding bells in your future then?”

“Maybe,” Tony said softly. 

“Maybe?”

Tony shrugged. “When you put your lives in each other’s hands, it’s easy to see things that aren’t there.” 

“But you love him?”

“Yeah.”

Rhodey wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder; Tony snuggled into his best friend’s side, imagining they were back at college, a pair of dummies against the world. 

“Wanna eat enough cake to make ourselves puke?” Rhodey offered.

Tony tilted his head back so he could look him in the eye. “I love you.”

* * *

Steve tapped his fingers against the file box in his hands, narrowly avoiding being mowed down by Clint as he tried to make his escape before Natasha discovered he’d eaten her favourite ice cream. Smiling to himself, Steve continued his journey across the room, feeling the warmth which came from having his team around him. 

It took time, but the Avengers were slowly coming together. It settled something in him, the part which longed for the Howlies and their easy companionship, and closed the gaping maw of loneliness he’d felt since waking in the future. 

He found Esme Duvall stealing a piece of cake before Tony and Rhodey could demolish it completely. “Excuse me, Ms Duvall?”

“Captain,” she smiled. “Call me Esme.”

“Steve. I actually have something for you.” He held up the file box.

“It’s my son’s birthday, not mine,” Esme pointed out, taking the box from him. “What is this?”

“You told us that you were looking into your grandfather when Hydra sent Bucky after you,” Steve explained. “If you’re still interested, these are all the files SHIELD has on him, and a few pictures I managed to track down myself. I didn’t know him for very long, but you’re welcome to talk to me about him whenever you want.”

“Thank you,” Esme murmured, running her fingers along the edge of the box. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I wanted to. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

With a smile, he left her to enjoy Harley’s party, weaving his way through the crowd until he reached Natasha’s side. He slipped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss into her hair, and she leaned back against his chest, a familiar weight in his arms. 

“You know Clint stole your ice cream, right?” he murmured. 

She nodded. “I already have my revenge planned.”

“Good. Keep it to yourself. I need some plausible deniability.”

Natasha chuckled, running her hand over his arm. Steve dropped his cheek against her head and let himself enjoy the moment of peace. They were rare, but these days he was doing his best to appreciate them when they came.

But then his eyes fell on Tony on the other side of the room. Rhodey was gone - Steve couldn’t see him - and with no obvious attention on him, Tony seemed to deflate. Steve saw the dark circles under his eyes, saw the slight tremble in his hand, recognised the concealed gun and saw the outline of the ankle holster when his jeans pulled tight. 

Tony was struggling; that much was obvious to see. And the infuriating part was the fact that Steve knew what he needed - or, more accurately, who - but the government refused to back down because they were embarrassed that they’d failed to notice that Hydra had permeated their every level until Steve and Natasha came along. 

Tony needed the person he trusted most in the world to help him feel safe. Until then, Steve doubted he would be able to move on and start rebuilding. 

Steve understood. After all, he could only imagine how untethered he would feel if Natasha was torn away from him, and they hadn’t had to put their lives in each other’s hands for six months. 

He didn’t realise he’d tightened his grip on her until Natasha squeezed his hand. Pressing a kiss of apology behind her ear, Steve made a silent promise.Starting tomorrow he was going to do whatever it took to get Bucky back.

* * *

The following morning, Steve marched into Fury’s new office and declared, “I’m done playing nice. Where is Bucky? I’m taking him back to the Tower.”

“And good morning to you too, Rogers,” Fury sighed. “Listen—”

“No, you listen,” Steve snapped. “Bucky’s not a threat. He’s a victim, not a criminal. And being locked up isn’t going to do him any good. And apart from that, Tony needs Bucky too. Keeping them apart is only doing more harm than good.”

“I agree,” Fury replied.

Well, that derailed Steve’s argument. He goldfished for a moment. “You do?”

“Yes. Stark’s pulling guns on Barton, he’s barely left his penthouse since he returned, Rhodes even put in for extended leave from the Air Force to look after him. He’s not okay. But my hands are tied.”

“You’re the director!” Steve argued. 

“Of what?” Fury snapped. “I have you, Romanoff, Barton, Hill and Coulson’s team. Everyone else is still being weeded out in case they’re Hydra and plotting to take down the government.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a paranoid bastard?”

“Apparently not paranoid enough,” Fury scowled. “Goddamn Alexander Pierce.” He sighed. “Look, Rogers. If I could tell you where Barnes is, I would. But the CIA and the FBI and the NSA aren’t exactly my biggest fans, since I let a Nazi organisation grow right under my nose without noticing. They are not telling me any more than they think I need to know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Not even a little bit. There’s nothing we can do but wait,” Fury shrugged, turning back to his computer in an obvious dismissal. 

Steve clenched his jaw, turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered.

* * *

“... and do you know what happened then?” Steve snapped, yanking open the drawer and snatching clean pyjama pants from the pile.

“The Director of the FBI had you escorted from his office?” Natasha replied without looking up from her book.

Steve scowled at her. “Are you ignoring me?”

“Fury can’t tell you where Bucky is so you went to see the CIA, they told you nothing and you were escorted from the building. You went to see the NSA, they told you nothing and you were escorted from the building. Then you went to see the FBI, they told you nothing and I’m guessing you were escorted from the building,” Natasha finished, finally looking up. She smiled. “Am I right?”

“I hate it when you do that,” Steve grumbled, climbing into bed and flopping onto his back.

“I know,” Natasha smirked. Steve glared at her; she chuckled, putting her book aside, then rolled over and folded her arms on his chest. 

“They’re punishing the wrong people,” Steve said quietly. “And they don’t have to live with the damage they’re causing. Six months and Bucky never hurt anyone. Well, except for Hydra but they don’t count. Both times he got away from Hydra and both times he made a family. How is he a threat?”

“I know,” Natasha replied. 

Steve huffed, glaring at the ceiling and winding his fingers in Natasha’s hair. He jerked when she poked him in the chest. 

“Hey!”

“You’re going to do something stupid and implusive, aren’t you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Usually,” he grinned.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Do you want my help?”

“Yes please.”

“Fine,” she sniffed before leaning down and kissing him.

Damn, he loved her.

* * *

Tony groaned and rolled over, grabbing his phone and stabbing at the screen until the alarm fell silent.

“Wait,” he yawned and realised he could’ve just asked JARVIS to turn it off. “Idiot.”

So he was still getting used to being back. Sue him. A month ago, he was still on the run from a Nazi organistation who would happily see him dead. He was adjusting… slowly. 

With another yawn, he rolled out of bed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He missed having Bucky there to laugh and tell him that his hair looked like a duck’s ass. After detouring into the bathroom, he padded downstairs, scratching at his belly through his shirt and wondering what to make for breakfast.

“Do we still have bacon left?” he wondered, reaching the first floor. “If Rhodey ate all my bacon, I’m going to be so mad.” 

“Your hair looks like a duck’s ass.”

Tony’s head snapped up and his jaw dropped as he froze in the kitchen doorway, staring in disbelief at the man on the other side of the room, grinning sheepishly at him. A knot twisted in his throat. 

His hair was longer, his roots were showing under the blond dye-job, and he looked exhausted but he was smiling softly at Tony.

Bucky.

“Hey Tony,” he smiled.

“You asshole,” Tony blurted out. He hurried across the room, into Bucky’s waiting arms, and buried his face in his neck. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Bucky murmured.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, pulling back so he could check Bucky over for any injuries. 

“I am now,” Bucky grinned and Tony’s stomach swooped.

Shit, he’d missed that smile. He realised that despite what Esme said, it wasn’t just proximity for him. Maybe Bucky didn’t feel the same way, maybe it was one sided but—

“I love you,” Bucky said. “I shoulda told you that before. Sorry it took me so long.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony adjusted Bucky’s t-shirt, smoothing it down. His lips twitched. “I didn’t tell you either, so… I think you’re forgiven.”

“Does that mean—”

“I love you too,” Tony smiled.

“I’m going to leave you two to it.”

Tony jumped. For the first time, he realised Steve was in the room, watching them with a proud grin.

“Sorry Steve, didn’t realise you were here,” Tony apologised. 

“No problem,” Steve assured him. “Welcome home, Buck.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” Bucky replied, nuzzling Tony’s temple. And didn’t that do all sorts of delightful things to Tony’s insides?

“My pleasure,” Steve smiled. “I’ll see you later.”

Tony couldn’t stop smiling at Bucky because he was _here_. Even just seeing his stupid, beautiful face and being back in his ridiculously strong arms soothed the beast in Tony’s chest. Suddenly being ninety floors above the city no longer felt like he was trapped. Because Bucky was _here_. 

For the first time in six months, Tony felt safe. 

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing along Bucky’s jawline. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, kissing Tony’s nose. 

Tony giggled, leaning in and brushing their lips together.

“Dad!”

Tony stepped to the side just in time to avoid Harley, who threw himself into Bucky’s arms. Bucky instantly wrapped himself around his son, pressing kisses to the top of his head and looking a little shaky. 

“Hey, buddy,” Bucky whispered.

“You’re here,” Harley exclaimed, his voice muffled by Bucky’s shoulder - and when did Harley get so tall? “I’m glad you’re back.”

And here came the tears. There was no way he could hold it together after that. Tony curled his lips around his teeth to bite back a smile. His heart swelled with the love he felt for that man and their son. All that was missing was—

A piercing scream cut through the air and Elly sprinted across the room, leaping into the air and into Bucky’s waiting arms. “Dad!”

“Hey, kid,” Bucky laughed, although it sounded more like a sob. “I missed you both so much.”

“I missed you too,” Elly declared. “You’re never leaving again.”

“Deal,” Bucky agreed. He caught Tony’s eye, raising his chin. “Get in here, you.”

Tony went willingly, wrapping his arms around his family, and though to himself, _I’m home_.

* * *

There were days when Nick Fury wished he’d never met a crazy woman whose fists glowed and who took him into space. Because then he never would’ve had the idea for the Avengers Initiative, and then he never would’ve become responsible for the fools who made up the Avengers.

Namely one Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America and a pain in Nick’s ass.

The elevator doors opened and Nick marched into the Tower’s communal kitchen.

“Really, Rogers?” he called, in lieu of a greeting. “You hacked into the CIA then broke into a secure facility, stole a prisoner, and left a note saying IOU?”

Steve Rogers had the audacity to shrug unrepentantly. 

Nick turned to Romanoff, glaring at her, and added, “I assume the actual hacking was in fact your handiwork?”

Romanoff licked yogurt from her spoon, looking every inch like the cat who got the cream, then sniffed, “I’d like to see you prove it.”

Because of course he couldn’t prove it. She was too good for that. 

“Look, Nick,” Steve began. “It all worked out. Bucky and Tony are both doing better already. And it’s only been twenty four hours. They’ve both stopped carrying weapons and they’ve come out of the penthouse. Tony went for groceries yesterday afternoon. He didn’t even do that before he went into hiding. You know this is the right thing to do.” 

He did. 

But like hell he was going to tell Steve Rogers that.

“You owe me so much paperwork, Rogers,” Nick warned.

Steve grinned charmingly, as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, as though he wasn’t committing a felony thirty six hours ago. 

“You could at least try to look apologetic,” Nick snapped. 

Steve just grinned even wider.

Nick rolled his eyes, turning with a swish of his coat tails towards the elevator. He had to go bribe the directors of the FBI, CIA and NSA, not to mention the President himself. But as he entered the elevator, he heard Stark’s voice laughing with another, deeper voice. Just before the doors closed, he caught a glimpse of Stark and Barnes entering the kitchen.

Nick smiled to himself.

Good. Stark and Barnes were better off together. Barnes never should’ve been locked up in the first place and if it was up to Nick, he would’ve ensured Barnes never saw the inside of a prison cell. He was glad Barnes was out, even if it did mean dealing with Everett Ross.

Just don’t tell Rogers.


	7. Epilogue

“I gotta say,” Steve announced as they walked off of the quinjet, “I like your new look a lot better than the blond.” 

Bucky ducked his head from under Steve’s hand as he tried to ruffle Bucky’s hair, elbowing him in the ribs and grinning when Coulson raised an eyebrow in disapproval at them. He liked Coulson. He had a mask of dry wit covering a complete and utter dork underneath. Bucky liked to joke that they were both members of the presumed dead club. 

Steve didn’t appreciate that joke.

Neither did Tony.

Coulson loved it.

“You coming down for pizza?” Steve asked. “We’re gonna see how many slices of garlic bread Clint can eat before he pukes.”

“What does Natasha see in you?” Bucky wondered.

“My dashing good looks and boyish charm,” Steve smirked.

“No. It’s his ass,” Natasha called, catching them up and patting said-ass on her way past.

“I’m a lucky man,” Steve declared.

“Luck is an understatement,” Bucky teased. “We took bets. My money’s on body snatchers.”

Steve flipped him off, jogging to catch up with his girlfriend. Bucky watched them go with a smile. All joking aside, he was delighted to see Steve so happy, especially as more of his memories returned. There were still blank spots and days when he struggled with his memory, but they were growing fewer and farther between. 

Waving to Coulson, Bucky hit the button for the elevator, smiling when JARVIS had the doors open almost immediately, and leaned back against the wall as the car sped up towards the penthouse. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, running his hand through his hair to sort out the mess Steve had made of it. 

After Steve broke him out, Bucky asked Tony to cut his hair short, finally silencing the voice in his head which told him that he looked wrong with long hair. But it turned out to be a mistake, cutting it before the blond dye was fully grown out, as he ended up looking like he had frosted tips for a few months.

(Tony had to show him on Google what frosted tips were and Bucky was left wondering about the world’s sanity, because people chose to do that?)

Finally, the blond grew out, leaving him with short, dark hair once again which felt right. He felt like himself. And it helped, on the days when his memory was shaky, to look in the mirror and see Bucky Barnes rather than the Winter Soldier staring back at him. 

Linking his fingers together, Bucky stretched his arms above his head until his spine popped satisfyingly. The quinjet was fast, but it was still a long flight from Eastern Europe, where they’d been taking out one of the few lingering Hydra cells. Even now, three years after the fall of SHIELD, there were still some Hydra operatives clinging on by their fingernails. Which was why, when he was cleared for active duty, Bucky agreed to join the Avengers.

He would take any excuse to go after Hydra for everything they’d done to him and his family. And for everything they’d tried to do too.

The elevator _pinged_ quietly, the doors slipped open and instantly Bucky was greeted by the sound of screaming.

“What the hell is going on?” he shouted. He spotted Elly and Harley in a tangle of limbs on the floor in the middle of the living area. When he looked more closely, Bucky realised that Elly had her brother in a lock, cranking it on his arm until Harley slapped the ground in defeat.

“Hi dad,” Elly grinned, panting for breath.

“What’s going on?” Bucky repeated. 

“It’s my turn to choose what we watch,” Elly announced, holding up the remote triumphantly and prancing back into the den with a disgruntled looking Harley trailing after her.

Bucky watched them go, then shook his head. Somehow he always managed to forget how much livelier life was with Elly and Harley around every time they went to stay with Esme. 

Crossing the penthouse, Bucky stepped into the kitchen and smiled, drinking in what he would always consider the most beautiful sight in the world. Because in the middle of the kitchen, bobbing from side to side and humming quietly, was Tony with their daughter in his arms. Bucky paused for a moment, leaning against the wall and watching them, taking his fill to make up for the three days he’d missed out on while on the mission. 

“...yes, that’s my good girl, aren’t you,” Tony murmured, kissing the top of Ana’s head. “Do you think daddy’s going to stand in the doorway all day or actually come over here and give us a hug, hmm?”

Bucky chuckled, pushing off of the wall and crossing the room. He wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist, leaning down to kiss Ana’s silky-soft hair and breathing in the sweet smell all babies seemed to have. Then he turned and pressed his forehead to Tony’s. 

“Hey you,” he murmured. 

“Good trip?” Tony asked.

Bucky nodded. He leaned down, pressing their lips together and smiling into the kiss, delighted as he was every single morning when he woke up and saw Tony next to him that he had this. This life, this family. The one he’d built all on his own.

Well. Almost all on his own. With a little help from a certain mechanic. 

Ana squirmed in Tony’s arms, tugging at Bucky’s uniform and demanding attention. Bucky broke away from his husband with a chuckle, hefting Ana onto his hip. When he looked around, Tony was watching him with warm eyes filled with love. He ran his hand along Bucky’s arm, squeezing his bicep, and murmured, “Welcome home.”

FIN


End file.
